Knights of the Old Storm
by Rain Nero
Summary: Rain wakes up on the Endar Spire before its destruction, and joins the cast of Knights of the Old Republic on their not-so-merry romp through the galaxy far, far away. Contrary to naming conventions, this is not a self insertion. *ON HIATUS*
1. 001: Spiral

**Disclaimer: Star Wars is owned by Disney. I'll never get used to saying that, but it is true now. Enjoy Luke and Leia randomly bursting into song! All other references, walk-in character appearances, etc all belong to their respective copyright holders.**

**001****: Spiral**

The world, or what little part of it I was in, rocked violently around me, jarring me from sleep. I didn't have time to react as I was abruptly thrown from the bed I'd been sleeping on onto a cold, _hard_ metal floor.

"Oh come on, who do I have to drop kick to get a few hours of sleep around here?" I grumbled automatically, picking myself up and rubbing the remaining tiredness from my eyes. Even if I wanted to, with the current earthquake or whatever was causing the world to shake, I couldn't even hope to get any more rest. A flicker of movement caught my attention, and drew it out a window... which showed nothing but star-lit space, with the occassional silver starfighter zooming by and shooting red lasers.

Wait... starfighter...

_Lasers._

_Space_.

"Oh son of a bitch!" I swore loudly, slamming my fist into the steel wall that was the nearest nonliving thing to take my aggression out on. What was even worse was that I was clad in only my boxers. If the pain in my hand didn't say otherwise, I would have assumed this was just a nightmare. No, somehow I had been taken from my home and dropped onto a spaceship without any information about what was going on. The next person to come within twenty meters of me was going to be in for a world of pain. A whir of activating mechanics caught my attention, and I didn't even think, turning on my heel and starting at a run, launching a roundhouse kick at the head of the uniformed man who came through. The lucky bastard ducked at the last second and I overbalanced, but managed to cover my fall with a standard roll.

"Easy there, kid. I'm one of the good guys," The man said, an amicable smile on his face.

"Sorry, I just didn't expect to wake up anywhere except for my own bed," I stated, and made a mental note to keep my random acts of violence in check.

"I don't blame you. We found you out in an unmarked escape pod and brought you on board. You were supposed to be in the med bay for a while, but Bastila intervened and cleared you to be placed in the crew quarters. I'm Trask Ulgo, a soldier for the Republic. What's your name?" The soldier asked, completely ignoring the rumbling of the ship as laser blasts hit it again and again. How he could be so calm and social at a time like this was both impressive and admirable.

"Call me Rain," I replied quickly, then noticed that there was a third person in the room with us, a middle-aged man with dark brown hair to his shoulders, dressed in a simple bodysuit.

"Oi, Soldier, on your feet!" The blonde man who I'd been talking to up until now barked, taking on a Drill Sergeant's tone. His voice drew the brunette soldier out of his bed and to attention.

"Private Varen reporting, Sir!" The Brunette replied quickly.

"Trask Ulgo. Get on your gear, Private, we need to find Bastila, and fast!" Trask then turned to me, resuming his pleasant appearance, and said, "You should probably get dressed too. Everything you had when you were found is in the footlocker next to Private Varen's."

I nodded and rushed to the footlocker, a small box of white metal with a basic keypad for inserting a passcode to unlock it. Thankfully the lid was already cracked open, and inside was a set of simple clothes, a long-sleeved white shirt, heavy-duty khaki pants, and a pair of calf-high leather boots. Not my first choice of stuff to wear, but at least I wasn't stuck in that uncomfortable-looking uniform Varen was stuck with. Who the hell chose _bright orange_ as the primary color for their military anyways? Were they _trying_ to make themselves easy targets? Turning back to my own affairs, I noticed two remaining items at the bottom of the footlocker. One was a small pistol, likely a basic survival model judging by the rifle Trask was carrying, and the other was a sword with a two foot long blade. Both came with basic carrying belts, and I was glad to find the sword came with a metal scabbard. In a pinch, that could serve as a weapon of its own. While I wasn't military-trained, I did have some experience in fencing, and had dabbled in Kendo when the opportunity had arisen. After I'd finished strapping on my weapons, I looked back to Trask and found that Varen was ready as well. We vacated the crew quarters and headed past a little robot that was trying in vain to repair the damages from the ship's bombardment.

"So, silly question, but who is Bastila?" I asked as we jogged down the corridor, "I gathered she's the superior officer, but you sound more desperate to find her than would seem common."

"Bastila is the CO, as you say, but only for our current mission," Trask replied, "She's a Jedi with a unique talent called battle meditation. From what I've heard, it can turn the tables in a fight, and that's what we need right now."

I didn't know what a "Jedi" was, but this battle meditation sounded like some sort of psychic ability. Just one more thing to add to the list of wierdness in my day thus far.

"Okay, even sillier question. Who the hell are we fighting?" I asked again. Trask didn't answer as a door slid open to reveal a pair of soldiers in the same uniform as Trask and Varen facing off against two in sleek silver armor. The acrid stench of burnt flesh and scorched metal filled the air alongside a host of red laser blasts. As the two soldiers fighting the silver-armored guys fell from mortal wounds, Trask rallied us with a battle cry and charged into the fray, firing his rifle rapidly at close range.

"For the Republic!"

I knew I should have helped, but I couldn't help but stand back and watch the sheer badassery that was playing out right in front of my eyes. Trask didn't give a damn who his enemies were, he ripped through them with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Sure, I'd have nightmares about the deaths later, but by _god_ Trask was awesome! I think Varen subconsciously understood this as well, and he stayed _well_ out of his CO's way. Once the brief skirmish was done, Trask just grinned back at us and waved for us to keep moving. We proceeded through the next door, and I acted on instinct the second I saw silver, dashing forward and drawing my sword in a furious slash that cleanly slit the throat of the nearest enemy soldier, then shifting my hand and drawing my pistol to fire a few distracting shots with it. None of them hit, but they made the other two enemies in the room drop below the table in the center for cover.

"You do realize there's three of us, right?" I asked, tapping sharply on the table, "Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard-"

I was cut off as Trask fired two shots from his rifle, both killing their targets. My previous image of the man was instantly shattered. He wasn't awesome, just ruthless and reckless.

"You can't reason with the Sith, Rain. They'd just shoot you in the back the second an opening was shown," Trask snapped, "Varen, loot that locker, it may have some better equipment left over."

As the Private went to fulfill his assigned task, I just let out an annoyed sigh and flicked the blood from my sword, then slid it back into the sheath, leaving my pistol available if needed. I leaned against the table and tried to block as many senses as possible, so the weight of the deaths that had taken place wouldn't overwhelm me here and now. More than ever I got the feeling that I didn't belong here, and it spurred me into action, immediately going to the door and slapping the controls. Unfortunately, the next hall was an even worse situation than the room I'd just been in, as I stepped out just in time to see one of the Sith launching a grenade at a squad of Republic troops... and one of his own men. When the dust from the explosion cleared, all four were dead, adding their weight to my back. War was sickening, and this wasn't even a war I had any place in. By all rights, I should just throw down my weapons and make a beeline for the nearest escape pod, but I doubted that was even an option.

"You shouldn't go ahead alone, Rain! You could easily be killed," Trask hissed in my ear. It was fortunate that we were around the corner from the remaining Sith troops, but how long that advantage would last was up for debate.

"That would be preferable to actually doing the killing," I snarled back. We retreated to the table-centered room and Varen laid out what he had salvaged. The results were rather slim, consisting of a few medical supplies, a lightweight ballistics vest, and a pair of standard-issue swords. Without question I took the ballistics vest and pulled it on, glad that the equipment wasn't too heavy and didn't restrict my movement all that much. Of the remainder, Trask and Varen each took a sword, and the Private added the medical supplies to his backpack.

"I got a look at our next opponents," I said, "Four Sith, with at least one grenadier."

"Got it," Trask replied, back in 'soldier mode' as I had come to call it. I just stayed out of the way as he and Varen proceeded around the corner and began fighting their enemies. The Private seemed to almost be of a similar mindset to me, taking no joy as he picked off the Sith one by one with well-aimed shots, while Trask continued to bask in the thrill of the fight. Still, if I didn't participate in the action at least a little, Trask would likely start to suspect me of working with the Sith, then execute me due to a lack of evidence to the contrary.

Okay, maybe he wasn't _that_ bad, but I'd rather not take any chances. I stepped up beside Varen and lined up a shot, intentionally missing the Sith soldier's head by a few centimeters, only to have that job fulfilled by the private. With all of their enemies defeated, Varen went on looting duty, checking the bodies for useful supplies, while Trask checked to see what was lying ahead. I followed the latter and stayed silent, until we both heard a resounding _snap-hiss_ from the other side of a nearby door, followed by a muffled voice. A heavy object slammed into the door from the other side, and I subconsciously reached for the controls, only to have my hand grabbed in a vice-grip by Trask. That was it, the last straw, all I could take of this man. He may have been a soldier, but he couldn't avoid the barrel of my pistol being placed between his eyes.

"I may be young, but stop treating me like a child. I can handle myself without you constantly trying to assert your dominance. You seem to not realize that _I am not one of your soldiers_. You have no say in what decisions I make, and if I want to open a door, I'll open a goddamn door without your input. Got it?" I asked, mentally shuddering at just how cold my voice had become with that statement. Trask gave a slight nod and I took the blaster from his face and smacked the door controls, keeping one eye on the Republic Soldier as the door slid open. Beyond it, a bald, pale man holding red-bladed laser sword stalked towards the slumped figure of a woman in tan robes, the extinguished hilt of her own laser sword lying on the ground. The woman was barely conscious, and would be an easy target unless if someone stepped in to take her place. By "someone", I of course meant _me_, since Trask seemed too preoccupied with unleashing a string of curses under his breath. I rapidly pulled the trigger on my little pistol, not expecting to actually hit the Sith, and not being at all surprised when he deflected the shots with his sword like some sort of super-powered tennis player. When my dinky pistol was reduced to making clicking noises, I let out a sigh and chucked the weapon at my enemy, which was promptly sliced in half.

"Okay, so, first two plans didn't work. Oi, Varen! You have any tips on how to take this guy out?" I called back down the corridor to where the Private was still checking bodies. The soldier poked his head up, flinched at the sight of the laser sword, and returned to his task.

"Some help you are!" I snapped, "If we make it out of this, you're fired!"

"Enough of this foolishness. You will die, and the Republic will crumble soon enough," The Sith hissed, his face twisted in a savage grin. A stereotypical villain's taunt, but as things stood, here so far away from anyone I actually cared about, I felt a wave of anger pass over me. Why the hell was _I_ dragged into this? Republic. Sith. They were two sides of a conflict I had no place in, yet for some reason I was defaulted onto the Republic's side and was now likely going to get impaled on some jackass's laser sword, which even of itself was a scientific impossibility! If there was any better time for a Deus Ex Machina, I couldn't see it. Of course, that would end up happening at the last second, probably _after_ I got one of my limbs removed.

"You will not touch them!" A woman's voice rang out, with a hint of a British accent. A loud _snap-hiss_ sounded in the corridor, and the next thing I knew I was watching one hell of a light show. The Sith's red blade clashed and sparked against the robed woman's blue. They were evenly matched, until the door at the other side of the hall opened and allowed four more Sith Soldiers to enter. If her attention was split, the woman would no doubt lose her duel, and we'd be in even worse a situation. Seeing the same thing, Trask lobbed a small, spherical grenade over the Sith Warrior's head, but the resulting explosion was fatal for all six on that side of the room. As she fell, the robed woman looked at me and smiled, before her body was further obliterated by exploding electronics in the walls of the corridor of the ship, casting the section into darkness. As much as I understood why Trask had acted that way, there had to have been an alternative outcome that ended with that woman alive.

"One of the Jedi accompanying Bastila... we could have used her help," Trask sighed, stepping forward to inspect the Sith Warrior's corpse, "Good, at least the Dark Jedi fell with her. Private, get up here and field strip the bodies! There's not much time left before we're the last ones aboard the ship, and I don't think we'll survive a crash-landing onto Taris."

"She didn't have to die," I whispered, slamming my fist into the wall and causing a shower of sparks to fall from the ruined wires.

"Kid, there are some situations where you have to make sacrifices. The Jedi knew that. If she hadn't stayed in the way of the explosion, it would have hit us too. If I hadn't thrown the grenade, the Sith would have killed all of us," Trask said, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder, "I wish you didn't have to experience any of this at all. You're still young, and you shouldn't be subjected to front line combat."

I just shook my head, and noticed something reflecting a little in the sparks. Something... cylindrical. With a start, I realized that it was the Jedi's weapon, lying crossed with the Sith Warrior's. Feeling hollow to the depths of my soul, I retrieved them and found the ignition switches on both hilts. Both weapons sprang to life, the fierce, dominant red blade and the serene blue, seeming to correspond well to the personalities of their now deceased wielders. Taking a deep breath to try and pull myself back together, I deactivated both blades and clipped them to my belt.

"I wouldn't try using those if I were you. Only a Jedi can use a lightsaber without running the risk of cutting one of their own limbs off," Trask warned me, "Varen, did any of those Sith have a blaster pistol Rain can use?"

The Private arrived soon and laid out the results of his search on the deck. There were a few belts of grenades, a couple of serviceable rifles... _blaster _rifles, now that I knew the proper terminology for their weapons, and some small electronic chips.

"Heh, didn't trust each other enough to leave their credits back at their bunks," Trask chuckled dryly, "Oh well, not like we'll be able to use blasters on the bridge anyways. Too small a space."

"No point weighing ourselves down with anything we don't need. Scavenge the power sources from the rifles if you can, keep the grenades and credits, toss everything else," I advised, my drained emotions leaving me in a more focused state. A loud beep issued from the tech device on Varen's wrist, and the Private pushed a button, which brought up a small flickering blue hologram of a bearded man in a ribbed flight jacket.

"This is Carth Onasi with the Republic fleet. I've been tracking your vitals through the Endar Spire's life support systems. Bastila's escape pod is away, which means you and Ensign Ulgo are the only Republic survivors left. Make your way to the starboard module and get to the escape pods, I'm here trying to keep them secure, but there's no telling how long we have before the ship is destroyed by the Sith turbolasers."

"Apparently my vitals aren't being tracked," I commented, "Likely didn't have enough time to get me properly in the system."

"You're the one Bastila recovered from that wrecked escape pod. You shouldn't be able to move with the injuries you had, much less be up and fighting..." Carth shook his head and continued, "Republic escape pods are only designed to fit two. I'll go with Varen, and you'll be with Trask. But you have to get here _fast_."

"I believe you already pushed that point," I replied, "we'll be there as fast as we can, but there's likely to be a decent bit of Sith interference."

"Right. Onasi out."

The Private's comm blinked out, and I lead the move to the bridge, drawing my sword with one hand while the other hit the controls. The doors opened and I barely ducked under a blaster bolt from a Sith soldier hiding behind the orange hologram display to the left of the door. Using the motion, I pushed forward and slammed the soldier, then flicked my sword up and around, disarming him of his rifle. A single quick cut to the throat ended his life, and sparked the other troops on the bridge to come out of hiding, pulling softly humming swords with strange devices built into their hilts. Trask and Varen took the front row on this encounter, wielding their swords in a much more power-based style, their uniforms providing only marginal protection from the strikes that they failed to evade or block. Both would likely need to use a medkit after this. There was no room for me to intervene, so I stayed out of the way and waited, until at last Varen called,

"Rain, switch!"

It was the first thing the Private had said since we met, and due to his quiet nature, I knew the soldier was being as urgent as possible with that statement. Varen leapt out of the way of a strike and I surged forward, taking his place and opening with a quick flick of my wrist. The Sith's sword was deflected to the side, striking a power cable exposed by the section's damage. I couldn't help but wince as his body was lit up by electrical shocks, until at last the sword exploded in his hands and the man fell to the deck, dead. Trask finished off his opponent with a heavy overhand slash and went to Varen for a medkit.

"Did you take any hits from that, kid?" The Ensign asked, breathing a little heavily.

"Not at all. Remind me to teach you some basic fencing when we get out of here. You might come out of skirmishes like this with a lot fewer injuries," I laughed, flicking the blood from my sword and sheathing it.

"I'll take you up on that offer, and teach you how to handle a blaster in return," Trask replied with a grin. Once both soldiers were back on their feet, we left the remains of the bridge for the linkup to the Starboard module. My ears picked up the humming of a lightsaber, and I opened my mouth in warning too late as a door at the other end of the linkup opened. Beyond it stood a man wielding a lightsaber with two blades, one coming from each side of the hilt, dressed in matte black armor and hakama-style pants similar to those worn by some martial arts schools.

"Damn, another Dark Jedi!" Trask cursed, "You two go ahead, I'll try and buy us some time!"

The Ensign started to run forward to meet the new foe, but I caught him by the arm and pulled the Sith Warrior's lightsaber from my belt.

"Come back alive," I whispered to the man, slapping the hilt into his hand. Trask smiled at me one last time, then ignited the lightsaber and ran to his death, the door sealing behind him. There was no salvation to be had from that encounter, and trying to dissuade Trask from facing the Dark Jedi would have only ended with all of us trapped fighting him. Hopefully, with the lightsaber Trask could last a little bit longer, perhaps long enough to score a lucky hit.

"We have to go," Varen murmured, but I could see the private was trembling with emotion. Whether that was anger, sadness, or fear, I couldn't tell, but we followed the second door into the Starboard Module and proceeded in silence down another curved hall. A single Sith Soldier sat against a wall at the crossing ahead, an injury in his leg the only reason he wasn't standing. I didn't wait for Varen. I was _pissed_, and this unfortunate man would be the one to suffer for it. I stalked down the hall, drawing my sword and savoring the ring of the metal as it cleared its sheath. The Sith heard it too and looked at me, then began trying to scoot away, pointing his sword at me but making no effort to defend himself as I knocked the weapon from his grasp. I wanted to kill the man, I honestly did. It would be easy, _too easy_ with him in this state. I wanted to put a face to all of my anger and rage, and then remove that face from existence with my own hands. But this man wasn't the one who was responsible for Trask's death, for the Jedi's death. No, the cause went much deeper, and I would find the one who gave him his orders, and destroy him. I thrust my sword into the wall beside the soldier, then stepped away, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself. Adrenaline was racing through my veins, and I wouldn't do any service to the Jedi or Trask's memory by running blindly and getting myself killed.

"Varen, give the man a medkit," I said. The Private didn't move, and I shot the soldier a glare, "There's no honor in killing a defenseless opponent, and even if he turns on us, it'll be on even ground."

"Showing mercy on the battlefield will only get you killed in the end, boy," The Sith coughed, "but... there's a squad of troops two rooms down, just before the escape pod. Commander's with them too, using that fancy new Vibroblade of his."

I nodded in acceptance of the information and removed the sword's scabbard from my waist, tossing it aside in disgust. My anger had tainted the blade, and I wanted no more to do with it. Above all else, I had to keep my head, until I had the proper time to grieve, and then my shot at justice. Finished with the medical treatment of the enemy soldier, Varen silently handed me his sword and pulled the rifle from his back, taking a quick check of the power levels and scope alignment before nodding and leading the way around the corner to the next room. A deactivated robot still clutching its blaster rifle stood near the door, slumped over, with the parts to repair it lying scattered across the floor by a fallen Republic soldier.

"A KT Sentinel Droid. Looks like it only needs some mild work," Varen reported, moving to the robot and beginning a repair job.

"So, why the sudden change of pace? You were dead silent before Trask..." I cut off and slammed my fist against the wall to prevent myself from having a larger outburst of anger.

"I prefer not to talk while at work. It feels like I'm disrespecting those I'm forced to kill," The Private answered, installing what looked to be a new power cell into the Droid's back. Varen replaced a panel and the Droid sprang to life, making a series of beeps that I assumed were some sort of power-on self test.

"KT SENTINEL MK-III ONLINE" The droid spoke in a synthesized male voice.

"Would you like to set up his new programming?" Varen asked, gesturing at the small datapad he was holding.

"Sure," I said, joining the soldier. The majority of the work was already set up for me, all I had to do was decide on the droid's behavior patterns. That got me thinking, and I finally got a rather awesome idea.

"Varen, are these droids street-legal?"

"Yes, but they aren't commonly seen. What's your idea?"

"Well, now that we have a free slot in the second escape pod, I was thinking that taking him with us would be a good idea. If anyone asks, he's my bodyguard," I said. Varen smirked and nodded, then took the datapad from me and began rapidly inputting commands. It was better to leave the droid programming to a professional. I'd likely just make the poor guy have a BSOD.

"Alright, he's all set up, and all yours," Varen confirmed at last, "Just get up where his photoreceptors can see you, and it should finish the process."

I stood and moved in front of the droid, whose centurion-esque head turned to look at me, scanning up and down.

"NEW OWNER ACCEPTED. INITIALIZING BODYGUARD ROUTINES... COMPLETE. MASTER, YOUR ORDERS?" The Droid asked, moving his rifle into a parade rest.

"You don't have to call me Master. My name is Rain," I laughed, unable to be a bit excited about having my very own robot, and one that looked quite awesome. I'd have to do something about that basic silver paintjob though.

"UNDERSTOOD. RAIN, YOUR ORDERS?"

"That's a Sentinel for you," Varen chuckled, "We should get this over with. Carth's waiting just beyond the next room."

"Mark, Activate any energy shielding installed and kill any Sith troopers beyond this door," I said to my Droid, still drawing my sword just in case.

"UNDERSTOOD." The droid's body emitted a loud hum, and I could see a faint red glow around it, the sign that my guess had been correct and the robot did in fact have shields.

"You're calling your Sentinel 'Mark'?" Varen questioned, readying his rifle.

"It allows for some inside jokes that nobody else will ever get," I answered, then slapped the door controls.

Five seconds later, Mark deactivated his shields and turned to me, raising his rifle to rest again.

"Good work," I said, and immediately went to the Sith Commander's body, which was distinguished by his red armor instead of the normal silver. I retrieved the commander's weapon, the Vibroblade mentioned by the Sith I'd allowed to live, and took a quick practice swing with the weapon. It was lightweight and roughly the same length as the uniform swords of the Republic Soldiers, which was more than enough for me.

"Looks like a custom job to me," Varen commented, grabbing a few more grenades from the fallen Soldiers. If anyone were to shoot his pack, an entire city block would likely go up in flames.

"CONFIRMED: VIBROBLADE IS NOT OF ANY STANDARD MODEL IN WEAPONS DATABASE." Mark added, "RAIN, PERMISSION TO OBTAIN ADDITIONAL POWER PACKS FOR MY BLASTER RIFLE?"

"If there are any compatible with that rifle, then by all means," I replied, securing my new vibroblade's sheath to my belt where the sword had been. I returned that weapon to Varen, and we opened the door to the Escape Pod bay. In person, Carth was light of build, with brown hair that had just a slight tinge of red to it, which went well with his orange flight jacket. At his waist, Carth was packing a pair of pistols, one of which looked heavily modified. He was in the process of downloading files to his datapad, likely the ship's logs and so on if I had to guess.

"Good, you're just in time. There's two escape pods left... but either way we slice it, one of us is going to end up alone, and that's dangerous with the Sith presence on Taris," Carth explained.

"Not at all, I found a solution to that problem. Mark, are you almost done?" I called.

"Mark? Who's Mark?"

"SUITABLE POWER PACKS HAVE BEEN OBTAINED, RAIN. YOUR ORDERS?" Mark joined us at the escape pods and quickly scanned Carth, followed by Varen, "SHOULD I ADD THESE TWO TO 'FRIENDLIES' DESIGNATION IN MY IFF DATABASE?"

"Wait, you got the Sentinel working, and you named it _Mark_?" Carth asked, seeming on the verge of saying something extremely sarcastic.

"I said the same thing," Varen laughed, "Let's get out of here while we still can."

"Right. I'll be in one pod with Mark, and you two can share the other," I offered, "And yes, Mark, add them as friendlies."

"That's for the best," Carth agreed, and opened the hatch to one pod, while Mark moved on his own to prep the pod we'd be sharing.

"See you after the drop, Rain," Varen said, then climbed into the pod, followed by Carth, who quickly closed the hatch again. I crawled down into the cramped space of my own pod and was quickly joined by Mark, who shut the hatch and began pushing buttons on the dim control panel. With a shuddering lurch we were fired from the ship, and the darkness gave way to a small view of space, and the planet below. The beauty lasted a moment, before something slammed into the pod and caused me to ram my head off of Mark's metal chest. Then, there was blackness, and silence.

* * *

**Ending Notes: I forgot to put these in when I published the first time... whoops. Anyways, as you've probably guessed by now(if you made it this far), this is just my way of getting through my current cycle of interest in the Star Wars franchise. I'm not too picky about the lore, or any plots I may end up driving straight into a brick wall, though I did do some research here and there that I felt was necessary. I also still have KOTOR installed on my computer, which will help _greatly_ in preparing some of the dialogue. Anyways, that's about all I have to say here at the start. I'm expecting a ton of flak for having Rain take the dead Jedi's lightsaber... until then, everyone!**


	2. 002: Stability

**Disclaimer: Star Wars is owned by Disney.**

**Second Disclaimer: I'm not nearly as versed in the lore as I should be, which may lead to some small issues here or there.**

**002****: Stability**

For the second time in recent memory, I awoke on an unfamiliar bed, but at least this time it was of my own accord and I was on a stable location. That didn't do much to help with my headache, though. Detecting that I was awake, I heard the metallic clank of Mark's footsteps crossing the floor and stopping next to me.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Carth chuckled softly, "You've been unconscious for about four days."

"That's just grand... Varen's been out and scouting, I suppose?" I replied, sitting up and trying to rub the pain out of my eyes. My dreams had been full of Trask and that nameless Jedi, of their deaths, over and over, of the people I'd killed aboard the Endar Spire. Subconsciously, I reached for the lightsaber at my belt, and found it missing. Frantically I got out of bed and looked around the room, until at last I found both the lightsaber and my vibroblade on what appeared to be a workbench, hooked up to a charging station. I let out a relieved sigh and took up the silvery hilt of the Jedi's weapon, igniting it once to make sure it hadn't been wrecked by the crash, then extinguishing the blue blade and clipping the weapon to my belt, where it belonged now.

"Yeah, and he's somehow managed to find himself a load of busy work that'll have him running all over Taris for the next week or so," Carth answered my question after a while.

"Hm. Did Mark give you any trouble?" I asked, looking to my bodyguard droid once again. I wasn't sure _how_, but either Carth or Varen had gotten the Droid's rifle away from him, leaving the droid to stand there looking rather awkward.

"Not at all, actually. He hasn't let you out of his sight, though, even to recharge," Carth answered, leaning casually against the wall. I let out a sigh and turned to my bodyguard.

"Mark, from here on, start a list of acceptable people to take over guarding me if you need to charge," I commanded.

"ACKNOWLEDGED. DO YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDLIES TO ADD TO THIS LIST NOW?" Mark asked.

"Carth and Varen, the two friendlies added while we were still aboard the Endar Spire," I replied quickly, "Those same two are also allowed to perform maintenance on you and make reasonable changes to your programming, but only if I'm not available to clear it first."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"Huh. Well that'll save some trouble later down the line," Carth commented, and hooked Mark up to a larger charging station. Once the task was finished, the Republic soldier returned to his place against the wall. I retrieved my vibroblade and clipped the weapon's sheath where it was meant to be, then looked around for my ballistics vest, the last piece of my equipment. When I couldn't find it, I looked back to Carth in suspicion, who only shrugged.

"I take it Varen sold it for all the credits he could?" I asked dryly, dropping back to a seat on the bed.

Carth nodded in response and explained further, "As good as the Republic Military Standard-issue is, if we're going to last on a world controlled by the Sith and dominated by criminals, we're going to need better equipment. There's a weapons dealer not far from this apartment complex. Nothing heavy, but from what I hear that isn't your style anyways."

"Walking around like a hulking behemoth doesn't lend itself well to precision-based swordsmanship."

"Varen claims you didn't take a single hit from any of the Sith soldiers. That's pretty impressive, since you're a kid and they've been military-trained," Carth said. Ah, now we were getting to the questions I'd been waiting for, the accusations, and likely an ending to it that would have me leaving to avoid mistrust.

"Make your accusations and let's be done with it," I sighed, rising to my feet again.

"I'm sorry, but I think I have a right to be a little cautious. You show up on an abandoned escape pod, get taken onto the Endar Spire, _Bastila herself_ clears you from the medbay without even so much as a simple scan to make sure you weren't injured. Then suddenly the Sith show up and board the Spire, and you escape without a scratch and the lightsaber of one of Bastila's strike team as a trophy," Carth snapped, "I wouldn't put it past the Sith to start training their agents young, take advantage of youth so we let our guard down."

"She died trying to protect us from a Dark Jedi. I only took her lightsaber to preserve her memory. Her, and Trask," I whispered, my hand going to the saber's hilt.

"Right, but how can I be sure that you won't end up using that same lightsaber to stab us in the back?" Carth laughed bitterly.

"That's just the thing. You can never truly know what another person will do. You can make predictions, educated guesses, theories. But in the end, people will always find new ways to surprise you, be it in a good way or bad. Clearly you've had a bit too much of the second option, or we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

Carth went dead silent, and I knew my guess had been correct. The man had been betrayed enough times in his life that trust was almost entirely out of reach for him. I'd met similar people... somewhere in my past, but the thick haze that blocked me off from any proper access to my memories wouldn't let me pull up any further details.

"Just because you can do a quick psychoanalysis doesn't mean I'm not going to keep my eye on you," Carth sighed after a moment, taking his hands away from his pistols, "If you do anything that would threaten our rescue mission, you're dead. Kid or not."

"Trust that isn't earned is meaningless," I replied, flopping back down on the bed once more, "Now that the questions of my loyalty are out of the way, is there anything _else_ you want to talk about? Preferably something that won't end up with us at each others' throats?"

"I couldn't come up with a topic right now if I tried," Carth muttered, "let's just turn on the holo and see if there's anything good running right now."

The 'holo' as it turned out, was the rough equivalent of a TV, just in hologram form. Carth kept flipping through the channels in annoyance until he finally gave up and put it on the news.

"The planetwide blockade of Taris continues," The first news anchor, an alien with a pair of head-tails folded neatly around his neck like a scarf, "From our reports, the Sith are looking for a Jedi by the name of Bastila. The situation has gone so far that Darth Malak himself is rumored to be in orbit above the planet. I'd say settle in for the worst, everyone. This is going to be a bumpy ride either way."

Carth looked like he was about to go on a massively destructive rampage, so I casually went over to the holo and switched the channel. The results nearly made my eyes bleed.

"My little Kath Hound, my little Kath hound..." A pointedly overdone voice began singing, as a starship descended below the cloud cover of a planet.

"Carth! Shoot it! Shoot it now!" I hissed, and heard a single blaster shot ring out, followed by blessed silence.

"We're going to have to get a new holo..." Carth muttered, holstering his gun and crossing his arms once more. Varen returned a moment later, now out of his uniform and dressed in a suit of pale blue and white battle armor. Glancing around the room, he noted the wrecked holoprojector and frowned for a second, then strode over to the workbench and dropped a heavy pack next to it. He began taking out equipment piece by piece, a few tech-enhanced belts, a pair of new rifles, a few small cases... not to mention a mess of parts to modify them all.

"I'm glad that you didn't kill each other while I was gone," Varen chuckled at last, breaking the silence, "but was the holo really such a villain?"

"Rain stumbled on one of the most terrifying shows of all time," Carth shuddered, "A second of exposure longer and we'd be mindless idiots."

"... Carth, did you blow up the Holo because you heard the opening of My Little Kath Hound again?"

"If you have to know, the yes, I did. It's a terrible show made by the Sith to brainwash children," Carth insisted, "The entire social structure of the Kath Hound society in the show follows the Sith military almost exactly, with the princess standing in for Darth Malak at the top!"

Varen and I looked at each other, then to Carth. I was pretty sure if my brow was raised any higher, it would have melded with my hair. Apparently, while I was asleep and Varen was out, Carth had been watching the show.

"Do you have something you want to tell us?" I asked with a mischievous smirk coming to my mouth.

"Yes. Shut the kriff up!" Carth snapped, "If you're done with your scouting for the day, I'm going to hit the cantina for a bit."

The Republic soldier stormed out of the apartment, and likely would have slammed the door behind him if it wasn't a sliding-type like all of the others I'd seen thus far in this section of space.

"Right, you weren't awake when Carth and I set up our mission objectives, so I think now's a good time to fill you in," Varen said, laying a few pieces of gear out for me, "Before that, we may as well get you acquainted with your new tools. Even if you decide to leave us, and you have every right to, it wouldn't sit well on my conscience to let a kid run around a planet infested with gangs without a full kit."

"What makes you think I'm going to leave?" I asked, picking up my new blaster pistol and checking the sights. Its design was much more similar to the handguns back home, and that measure of familiarity would make me a bit more effective with it. Of course, I'd always been more a fan of revolvers, but I'd take what I could get. There I went again, pulling details from my past, and my home, out of thin air again. Well, no. Not _thin_ air, per se, more like fog with the consistency of chocolate pudding. Mmmm... pudding. I could go for some right about then, or any sort of food at all.

"Done with your internal monologue?" Varen prodded, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry. They happen from time to time, and once I get going, I can't stop," I replied, returning the blaster to its holster and looking over the rest of my new setup.

"Rain. I'm going to be completely honest with you here. You don't have to join us. In fact, I'd prefer you _didn't._ You're still young, and getting involved in a war is the last thing a person at your age needs. I'm not going to abandon you here on Taris, but once we get back into Republic-controlled space, you should look into finding passage back to your homeworld."

"No."

"No?" Varen repeated, his eyes narrowing a little, "Care to explain a little further?"

I'd give him a hint as to where I came from, but nothing more. If I spilled all of what I knew now, I wouldn't have any sort of professional integrity.

"My homeworld can't be reached by any starship in this galaxy," I began, and gauged the Private's reaction for a moment. When he stayed silent, I continued, "Well, that, and I have the distinct desire to ram my boot up the ass of this Darth Malak fellow."

"Don't do anything reckless. You may have a lightsaber, but without Jedi Training and access to their 'Force', it's effectively useless to you," Varen warned, "It's why I didn't interfere when you tried going up against that Dark Jedi. You could have very easily ended up dead."

He didn't have to add 'Like Trask' to the end. I could tell it was implied. Just thinking about how botched that entire run through the Endar Spire had been raised all of that anger in me again, to the point that I wanted to break something, or _someone_ in half. But no, that fury would have to wait for the proper outlet. Whether Varen liked it or not, some day I was going to go against Darth Malak, and he was going to pay for all of the lives his Dark Jedi had taken. I had no doubt that I'd likely end up losing that battle, but not before I caused as much hell for him as possible.

"I take it Republic troops aren't tought how to properly counter any of the Jedi's abilities aside from throwing a grenade at them," I grumbled, "Which seems a fatal flaw if some have defected to the Sith."

"There's not much normal beings like us _can_ do against their powers. From what I've heard the mind-affecting ones are some of the worst. With a single sentence they can make anyone without the proper willpower turn on their friends and loved ones," Varen sighed, "I'm not happy about Trask's death either, but I know better than to start a vendetta against Malak for it."

"Well, you have other options to fall back on. I'm kind of stuck with their memories haunting my dreams, and until some justice is served, they aren't going to let me rest easy," I replied, "On top of that, you and Carth are literally my only two contacts in the galaxy."

"Then your homeworld was destroyed?" Varen asked. He was getting closer, but wasn't quite where he needed to be to make the jump to the truth.

"You've gotten as much out of me for now as you're going to. Now, tell me what all of this _does_."

* * *

The issue with Taris, as far as I could see, was the lack of proper recreational areas. Sure, there were bars, or "cantinas" as everyone seemed to call them (same thing really), but there were no parks, no arcades. The reason people turned to crime seemed more out of boredom than anything else. The Sith apparently hadn't been there long enough to set up a training center either, which meant no firing range for me to test my new SSK-00 on. According to Varen it was a test model SoroSuub weapon, being released to the civilian public in small quantities as home defense weapons. No surprise that Taris was one of the target planets for this test release. Still, the lack of plant life, of trees and vegetation set me on edge, made me want to get the hell off of this planet as soon as possible.

I activated my wrist-comm, which was similar to the military model Varen used, and dialed the Soldier's frequency. His head soon popped up as a hologram, sporting a smirk.

"Did you get into trouble already?" He asked immediately.

"No. Not yet. But if we don't advance our plans, I'm going to go crazy from the lack of trees," I replied, "And the lack of entertainment, and decent food. Do I need to continue?""

"I get it. We've got a lead on where she may be, but its in the Lower City, which is blocked off by a Sith checkpoint. We'd need at least one of their uniforms to get down there," Varen sighed, "That's proving to be the hard part. Their patrols are scheduled to the minute, and it isn't like we can just blast one in a public place."

"Yeah, that wouldn't exactly go over well with the Sith or the general populace."

I was mostly talking to Varen while I kept moving, and I encountered a sad but rather common situation. A pair of bounty hunters, one a human and the other an Aqualish, had cornered an old man. I kept my distance for the time being, waiting to see how it played out before I made a move.

"Davik says you missed your last payment," The human said, gesturing with his blaster, "You know what happens when you miss payments, right?"

"I have fifty credits? How's that for an extension? I can get the rest to you within the next day!" The old man offered, trembling in the corner.

The alien said something in a language I didn't understand, but clearly it was a death threat.

"Somebody help me!" The old man shouted, "Please, anybody! I don't want to die!"

A bit overdramatic, but it was enough for me. I stepped up and cleared my throat, pulling the attention of both bounty hunters.

"A witness. Davik doesn't like witnesses," The human said, pointing his blaster at me.

"Then why conduct your business in a public location?" I replied with a smile, "Seems to me like you're just trying to get in as much bloodshed as possible. I know Taris can be boring, but seriously, find a better hobby."

The thing about low-class bounty hunters, especially ones on Taris, is that they had very poor skills, and gave off massive hints to their next action. While both raised their blasters, I stepped in and roundhouse-kicked the alien hunter in the face, the impact sending him over the railing and falling towards the lower city. He'd be dead from the impact, there was no doubt.

"Holy Sith!" The human hunter swore, "Who the hell are you?"

"You don't need to know my name. What you need to know is that you should seriously consider finding a different line of work. People like you make me sick to the point that I'm willing to break my policy on avoiding casualties. I'm letting you live to report to your employer, but believe me, there will be no mercy for your kind from here on out. Now, run, before I decide to deliver the message myself and you end up in a pool of your own blood!" I snarled. It had more than the desired effect, as the bounty hunter fled as fast as possible, screaming bloody murder. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I turned to the old man and gave a reassuring smile.

"Whoever you are, thank you!" The old man said, falling to his knees.

"I'm just glad I could help. How much do you owe?" I asked, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.

"A hundred credits. I have the fifty, but..."

"Sickening. They'd send hunters after you for such a small amount? Here, take a hundred, pay of your debt. At your age, action like _that_ is the last thing you need," I said, pressing the credit chips Varen had given me into the old man's hand.

"You're a saint, young man. Thank you! Thank you!"

With money in hand, the man ran off, and I rose to my feet once more, and instantly became aware that I hadn't cut my call with Varen. Mentally facepalming, I brought the wrist-comm back up so he could see me.

"That was a generous thing to do, Rain. But we can't stop to deal with every bounty hunter on Taris. The mission comes first," The Soldier said softly.

"I know, I know. But the defenseless need someone to protect them, and if I can be that protector for the time we're here..."

Varen nodded in understanding, "I look at this planet and see a literal world of pain. But even the Republic could only do so much. For now, come back to the apartment, it's Carth's shift."

I acknowledged and cut the comm, bringing up a small map on the wrist-comm's screen instead. Following its instructions, I made it back into the apartment complex we'd set up shop at, which was mostly populated by non-humans. I gave Larrim, a Twi'lek merchant who'd set up shop there, a passing greeting. I put in the lock code for our apartment's door and entered, flopping down on the bed with a long drawn-out sigh of combined mental and physical exhaustion. Without even thinking, I'd taken a life today. Sure, it was justified, but there were other ways of handling situations like that, and ways of death that didn't seem more like torture. If I had to kill, I wanted it to be a quick, clean kill. My enemies didn't have to suffer, whatever supposed afterlife there was would take care of that on its own.

"Rain, if you don't want to take a scouting shift, Carth and I can handle it," Varen offered, leaning back in his chair at the workbench and lifting his safety mask.

"No, that's not fair to either of you. I have to pull my weight. Besides, being cooped up in this apartment all day would just drive me off the deep end," I replied, kicking off my boots and laying and doing my best to get comfortable, "There's just so much suffering here on Taris, and the fact that I can do so little about it pisses me off."

"The blessing and curse of empathy," Varen replied, "The mission does come first, but that doesn't mean we can't help the people while we're looking for Bastila. In fact, the two may be linked. If we help the _right_ people, they may be able to get us what we need. Oh, by the way, I finished the mods to your stealth field generator. It should synch up better with your armor now."

"I'm still wondering how you managed to get so many credits for those grenades. Are military-grade explosives in that high a demand?" I asked.

"The Sith confiscated everything useful from the merchants here in the upper city. Or at least, the merchants with a license. Kebla Yurt was one of the ones affected the worst by it, so I decided to help her business in exchange for a few special orders. It's how I managed to get all of our new gear on such a small budget. Once I'm finished with all of the changes that need to be made, I'm going to check out the Taris Dueling Arena. It may be ran by a Hutt, but it'll be a good way to get some more credits."

"And it's all nonlethal?"

Varen nodded, an action which also brought his safety mask back down, and said,

"Death matches have been outlawed for a good long while. Still, I'd rather you didn't risk getting hurt. The duelists are professionals, Rain. If you go in the ring with them, you _will_ end up taking a few hits."

"Fine, I'll let _you _handle it," I grumbled. He'd taken the wind right out of my sails with that one. Apparently I was starting to become a bit predictable to them...

"Oh don't sound so depressed about it. I'm just looking out for you, alright? Someone has to."

I let his statement hang in silence and tried to settle down for at least a small nap before Carth came back from his scouting shift. What rest I did get these days was few and far between, since we always took turns of about two standard hours, day and night, trying to get whatever leads we could on how to reach Bastila. Whenever one of us came back, we'd invariably end up waking up whoever was sleeping, intentionally or not. I think what I needed right then, more than a relief of boredom, was a solid eight hours of sleep. To be able to go to bed, rest, and wake up to find that the entire universe wasn't crashing down around my ears. With the Sith occupying Taris, at war with the Republic, with bounty hunters destroying the lives of those that so much as owed a single credit, I wasn't going to get that. It seemed that even for the short-term, I wasn't going to get my nap either. Instead, I sat up and activated the codex Varen had added to my wrist-comm, hoping to brush up a bit more on alien species and their customs so I wouldn't end up doing anything awkward if we ran into them. At the same time, I was counting my blessings that whoever had brought me here had added the understanding of Aurebesh, which was the written version of Galactic Basic, to my brain. There would have been too many awkward questions if I _didn't_ have that knowledge.

About an hour into my continued research, the comm beeped, showing Carth's frequency. Without a second of hesitation I answered it and the bearded man's face popped up.

"Got something, Carth?" I greeted, knowing that he wouldn't have contacted _me_ unless if it was something big. He always went to Varen for his minor check-ins.

"Just saved someone from a Sith interrogation," Carth answered.

"Then we have our way into the lower city," I said with a grin, "What condition is the armor in?"

"We've got a clean set. I took one out with a headshot and the other got hit in the chest. I need you to bring me a case to store it in so I don't draw any unnecessary attention. Sending my coordinates to you now."

My comm beeped again and I added the location as a marker to my map function, then confirmed it with Carth.

"I'll be on my way shortly, expect me in about half an hour," I reported, and cut the call. I don't think I ever got into my armor faster than I did in the few minutes after talking to Carth. We had our lead, we had our means into the Lower City... we had a way to speed up the process of leaving this hopelessly corrupt planet. I dropped the SSK-00 into its holster on my right hip and swung the Stealth Field Generator belt around my waist, activating it once to make sure it had synched with my armor before deactivating it and attaching the sheath of my vibroblade to the port on the right side. I prefered to keep it edge-up in the manner the samurai wore their swords, mostly due to the similarities in design between the common vibroblade and a katana.

"You should leave the pistol here so I can work on it. I still need to file down the grip so you can use it properly with the tactical vibroknife," Varen commented, "If you're in close-quarters like an apartment complex, you'll have the advantage with your blade anyways."

"On that note, I still want to look into some more heavy mods for this armor when we get off Taris," I conceded, removing the pistol from its holster and setting it on the edge of the workbench, "And you _really_ need to finish the work on Mark. It just doesn't feel right having him sit around, deactivated."

"Once I'm finished with the weapons, which should be some time tomorrow if everything works out, I'll get back to Mark," Varen replied, "You'd better hurry. Carth's in more danger the longer he stays where he is. Patrols are scheduled to report in soon, and when that one doesn't report in..."

"I get it," I cut him off, grabbing the armor case. Without further delay, I turned on my heel and raced out the door with as much speed as I could muster.

* * *

**Ending Notes: Oh boy, did I have some fun with this chapter. There's a lot of different ways this could have gone, but I wanted to show some distinction between the game, where the heroes just rush down and save Bastila in two days, and what likely would have happened realistically. I'm trying to keep Rain as far from being a stereotypical "Oh, I'm in Star Wars, and now am incredibly awesome" character as possible, but I am finding it a bit difficult to explain away some of his abilities without ruining his overarching plot. Oh well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I also had a bit of trouble including Mark as much as I wanted to in this chapter. That's mainly due to his lower-level AI programming at the current moment, which doesn't allow for the amount of... personality I want to give the droid. Varen(the original player character from KOTOR if you couldn't tell), is proving to be a jack of all trades like he was meant to be, but unfortunately that leaves him mostly acting as the group's mechanic for now. Anyways, more to come as soon as I can get it to you all. Until then everyone!**


	3. 003: Forward

**Disclaimer: Star Wars is still apparently owned by Disney. If the new trilogy ends up a flop, the mouse is getting a rusty pike through most of his internal organs.**

**Opening Notes: So I just wanted to clarify where I got the classification for Rain's Blaster from, and no, it wasn't pulled out of my arse. The SSK-7 was a heavy blaster pistol used during the Rise of the Empire era in the Star Wars mythos, and was actually introduced by one of the D6 RPG expansions. No other versions of the blaster model have been specifically mentioned that I'm aware of, which made me think that it was likely one of the better models that was slowly upgraded and rereleased over the course of the SoroSuub company's production career, mostly to update the parts to more modern standards. I know I'm likely stretching it a bit, due to the time difference between the Rise of the Empire and the Jedi Civil War, but it was the closest weapon I could find that would be familiar to Rain without BSing and giving him a variant of the DC-15s, which was the only other weapon within an acceptable range of design(that I knew of) for Rain to use without causing some issues. Anyways, I've babbled here long enough. On to the main event!**

**003: Forward**

The apartment complex stank of ozone and burnt flesh. I walked through it all, a ghost wandering the remains of a battlefield. Sith and civilian alike had been caught up in the conflict, their corpses littering the hallways and making proper stealth more than a bit difficult. I had to keep my emotions in check, or I'd suffer a full-on emotional breakdown, and that was the last thing I needed when Carth was still in danger and more Sith would likely soon be filling these halls. Slipping into an abandoned apartment, I deactivated my stealth field and attempted to contact Carth on the comm. When that didn't work, I immediately contact Varen.

"Get out here, _now_," I said, pushing the button to transmit the same coordinates now, "I don't care what you're working on, you need to be here, and bring Mark along. We may need him."

"On it," Varen replied, his eyes wide. I cut the call and reactivated my stealth field, every ounce of my being praying that Carth was at the very least still alive. He may have been a jerk, but I don't know what we'd do without him. The body count increased the closer I came to Carth's marked location. I had to blink as I stared at the entrance to the apartment Carth was supposedly still in. The entire hallway for a good meter or more around it was pitch black with carbon residue from explosions, blaster fire, and who knew what else. The door itself was a mass of melted metal, but the fact that the battle had centered on this point meant that Carth was likely still inside.

"Scans of the area indicate two survivors. Find them and make them talk!" A voice commanded, echoing in the silence of the hallway. The sound of tramping boots and clanking droid servos reached me, and I knew that if I didn't find a hiding spot I'd be discovered, stealth field or no.

_You can't let them reach Carth, alive or dead._

First off, Carth was definitely alive. There was no way he'd let himself be killed by the Sith, not without finishing his mission. Second, getting myself hurt by drawing the attention of the Sith troopers was _not_ the way to protect Carth.

_Stop screwing around. You know what you have to do, and would whoever brought you to this galaxy let you die so easily without finding and completing your true purpose here?_

I'm not invincible, hell, most of my so-called skill came mainly from blind luck. I hadn't had a single day of formal training in any of the areas I supposedly excelled at over Varen and Carth.

_It's carried you this far. Let it carry you further. Make them pay for every second of pain they have caused to this planet and the galaxy._

What would it accomplish? They were a symptom of the true cause. I shook my head to clear it of that little voice telling me to just cut loose, but it was that very movement that betrayed me. One of the Sith Battle Droids, of the same model as Mark but painted with a few red stripes on its arms and head, snapped to attention, pointing its repeating blaster at my location. I think my resulting sigh was the loudest noise I'd ever heard in my life, as I rose to my feet and clicked off the stealth field generator. The Sith soldiers and droids alike swarmed in, surrounding me and bringing their rifles to bear. I'd lost, but at the very least I could buy some time for Varen to pull something potentially crazy and/or stupid to save me, or at least Carth. Then again, considering how he'd handled the Dark Jedi situation, he'd likely leave me to rot. No, that wasn't fair, Varen had proved he was better than that during the last week we'd spent living and working together. There was nobody able to save me this time, no Deus ex Machina, no Jedi Woman to sacrifice herself for me, no Trask to run into the fray where by all rights I should have gone instead.

"No blood on you. So either you're a looter, an innocent bystander who got too curious, or a Republic spy," A smooth voice with an english accent said, and the droids directly in front of me parted to allow a man in a gray officer's uniform to step forward to address me more directly, "Your choice of dress lends more to the first and third options."

The Sith officer seemed a pleasant enough man to deal with, and with enough skill I could talk my way out of this instead of ending up in a Sith Interrogation Cell. Even though that little voice in the back of my head was just about screaming for me to decapitate the officer, I managed to keep at least something resembling my cool, which would hopefully be enough.

"The second option is correct, actually. I owe no loyalties to the Republic or the Sith," I answered. That was more or less the truth, since I didn't belong in the war in the first place, and I hadn't sworn any oaths to the Republic. In fact, I preferred it that way, so I was still free to act as I wanted without any constraints except my own morality.

"Really now. What would an innocent bystander need a suit of Infiltrator-class armor for? Taris is a peaceful world, is it not?" The Sith officer asked, his eyes begging me to disagree.

"The armor was a gift from a friend. He keeps trying to get me into the mercenary business. I'm mostly wearing it just to get used to it if I decide to go that route," I replied. Again, mostly the truth, except for the mercenary bit. I did consider Varen and Carth my friends, even if the latter was still exceptionally wary around me.

"And the stealth field generator?"

"Apparently some people pay well for mercs that can get behind enemy lines and secure a target without provoking conflict. It also works great for scaring the pants off of people who least expect it," Alright. I had this. Even if he asked for licenses, Varen had that covered. Since nobody really knew my name, and it wasn't included in the logs on the Endar Spire, the Private had used my real name to establish my licenses with Kebla Yurt.

"Your licenses?" The Sith officer prodded, now starting to look a little bored. I flipped to the required document on my wrist-comm and showed it to the officer, incredibly glad that Varen had thought so far ahead. He'd even managed to get a license for the prototype vibroblade I carried, since Kebla had apparently ID'd it as being the work of some lesser-known arms smith whose name I couldn't remember.

"Everything's in order, and you're free to go. I suggest that from here on, you try to avoid satisfying your curiosity in such ways, or you could end up on a battlefield you're unprepared for," The officer gave me a genuine smile and gestured to two sith troopers, "Escort him out to the main streets."

Alright. So I'd managed to escape, but I'd been forced to leave the armor case and Carth behind. Hopefully Varen could handle that business, because I just wanted to get back to the apartment and try to purge what I'd seen from my mind. Varen and I passed each other on the street, and I'm pretty sure he understood what had happened, since Mark soon turned around and began following me, remaining silent even when we reached the apartment and I collapsed into the bed, images flashing behind my eyes of every last death I'd seen. The Sith would have Carth soon, and Varen would either be captured as well, or killed on the spot.

But not me. I'd taken the easy way out, knowing what would happen if I did, at least on some subconscious level. A wave of guilt rushed over me and nearly drowned me. It felt like I'd betrayed both of them, and that would be the exact same thing Carth would claim if they made it back to our little hideaway unharmed. A ferocious and inhuman snarl of fury worked its way from my lips, and I slammed my fist against the wall of our apartment with enough force to leave a small dent.

"THE WALL IS NOT A THREAT, RAIN." Mark chimed in.

"No, but it saves me from potentially taking my anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it," I snapped at the droid, My comm beeped and I saw that it was Varen. I really, _really _didn't want to answer it, but the look Mark was giving me forced my hand. I pushed the button and waited for the inevitable statements of disappointment, claims of betrayal, and affirmation of my guilt.

"Mission objective's a success," Varen said cheerfully, "I got Carth to the hospital, he's currently in a Kolto tank and recovering. Got the armor too. Good thing you left the case where I could find it."

None of my expectations had been met by Varen. Oh well, Carth was likely going to have some harsh words for me when he was out of his healing bath.

"Alright. I'll see you when you get back," I said, my voice sounding as hollow as I felt.

"We... need to have a talk. It doesn't have to be tonight, but it needs to happen," The Private stated, his voice soft and full of a caring tone that just made me feel even worse.

"Yeah. Maybe once I can get my head even remotely back together. For now, I think you and Carth should handle the first Lower City trip without me once he's healed up," I sighed again.

"We'll handle all of that when the time comes. For now just get some rest, kid. You need it."

The call ended and I forced myself to go through the motions of properly preparing for sleep, even though Varen would no doubt wake me up when he got back to the apartment, willingly or not. What sleep I did get was flooded with the joint images of the Jedi and Trask, with the new additions of all of the civilians I'd seen dead from the conflict with the Sith. So many lives taken by a war that likely had no proper meaning behind it. I still felt like I could have done something to save them. If I'd been stronger, or faster. If I had the skills I pretended to.

"You know, Carth, you could go a little easier on him. He's doing his best," Varen's whisper pulled me out of my sleep, but I kept up appearances so I could hear what they had to say to each other.

"Yeah. He's said it himself though, he has no place in this war. As much as he wants to take out Malak, there's a long line ahead of him for that. I don't know, I just look at him, and I see another casualty waiting to happen. He's got potential, I won't deny it, but that potential should be put to a different purpose than running around with us," Carth answered in an equally hushed tone.

"It all depends on Bastila, really. She was the one who cleared him from the Endar Spire's medbay, and effectively put him in my care. If she says that he's staying with us beyond this mission-"

"And you'd just leave his fate to be decided by a Jedi? He may be young, but he has the right to make his own decisions."

"Is that the faint beating of a heart I hear from you, Carth?" Varen chuckled, "He was pretty shaken up when he couldn't reach you. That, on top of how much emotional trauma he seems to suffer from every death he sees..."

"Kid probably thinks he failed me somehow," Carth finished with a sigh, "Has he opened up to you at all? Told you anything about his past?"

"All he told me was that we were the only people in the galaxy he knew. I'm honestly afraid to think of what that means," I heard Varen move to the workbench and sit down, and Carth took up his usual position by the wall.

"Well, it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together. He wants to go after Malak, we're the only ones he has contact with in the galaxy, and he was found in an unmarked escape pod. I think his home was destroyed by the Sith, along with whatever ship was trying to evacuate. Varen... I think he may actually be from Telos!"

"Like you said, if you put two and two together," I could almost hear Varen's shrug.

"I'm not from Telos," I stated bluntly, sitting up in bed and shooting an annoyed look at the back of Varen's head. From the sound of it, my fear of mistrust had been wrongly placed. Even though I was still a fair bit shaken up by the entire situation in the apartment complex, I didn't give either of them enough credit.

"How long have you been up?" Carth coughed, looking away.

"For pretty much the entire discussion about Bastila's possible claim to running my life after we rescue her. It does _not_ make me look forward to our first proper meeting," I replied, "But back on the topic of where I'm from, you're aiming in the completely wrong direction. Keep trying and I'm sure you'll figure it out once you've exhausted every other option."

"Or you could just come out and say it," Varen replied. I could see he was finally working on my SSK-00.

"I... can't," I rubbed my eyes and tried to find a way to explain my condition that didn't make me seem flat out insane, "I have an odd form of amnesia. Specific topics can allow me to regain fragments of my past, but I'm never even consciously aware of the information until I've accessed it. Whoever did this to me was the same one who put me in that escape pod and left me on the path for the Endar Spire to find."

"And you're just _now_ telling us?" Carth asked, his tone implying that this was something I should probably put on a sign around my neck.

"Do you like to talk about all of _your_ issues?" I replied with a grim smirk, "Anyways, it's good to see you're back up and about so soon. I did my damnedest to get to you, but I got caught by the Sith backup team. Points to Varen for giving me enough of an identity to persuade them into thinking I was just an innocent bystander who wanted to help any survivors."

Varen spun in his chair and dropped a small bow, then turned and got right back to work.

"We were right about the patrols checking in, and before I knew it I was in a firefight like no other. Everyone living in the apartments sprang to help me when the Sith sent in reinforcements. I don't think they even knew who I was, just that there was an armed uprising," Carth said, "A lot of good people died that shouldn't have..."

"Wait, Varen, how did you manage to get past the Sith?" I wondered.

"When I came in, they were all dead, so recently that one of the droids was still falling over. I didn't see who did it, but the cuts were clean and cauterized, like a lightsaber," Varen answered, "I'm not certain, but I _hope_ that means we've got some help in the shadows."

"I'm pretty sure that once we have Bastila running around here, we'll have all the Jedi help we could possibly need," Carth grumbled.

"All of us will be heading down into the lower city after I've got the work finished on our gear. Now that we don't have to worry about taking scouting patrols, I can actually get some work done. You may want to go out and find something to do with your free time, though," Varen explained, his voice a little hard to hear over the sound of the grinder, "As much as I normally wouldn't suggest this, I think you should be the one to take care of the whole Arena run. You need something to clear your head, and that's the only way I can think of that won't bring the Sith down on you."

* * *

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, to the Taris Dueling Arena! For tonight's viewing, we have a very special matchup! The legendary failure of a duelist, Deadeye Duncan! In the other corner, a newcomer, but by no means a stranger. This young man is the very same responsible for saving an old man down on his debt from two big, bad, bounty hunters! I give you, the Blue Lion!" The announcer of the dueling arena had a voice that was _made_ for the job. While I wished that he hadn't included the bit about the bounty hunters, it at least gave the crowd a point of perspective on where I'd come from. Ajuur the Hutt had been a bit wary of allowing me to enter the ring until I made him aware of that detail, at which point he'd nearly jumped out of his seat, which is saying something for a Hutt.

My opponent, Deadeye Duncan, was the usual test for new duelists, having lost fifty-four consecutive matches before this one. If I didn't win, I'd die of shame. The energy suppressors allowed for any weapon to be used without fear of killing the opponent, even going so far as grenades. High-class medical droids were on standby for any more serious injuries. It was, as Varen put it, a way for me to let out some of the aggression that had been building with every death I witnessed. Duncan was going to be needing those medical droids if I really cut loose.

Deadeye Duncan reached for his blaster the second the bell for us to begin sounded, but fumbled and dropped it. I stayed where I was, one hand on the sheath of my vibroblade, and waited for him to recover his weapon.

"What's this? It would appear the Blue Lion is a bit of a gentleman, allowing Duncan to get recover from being disarmed!"

The older duelist raised his blaster pistol, trying to line up a shot, but even from the other side of the ring I could see how shaky his aim was. I stood perfectly still, even as Duncan took his first shot and it went wide, then another and another. The only reason he couldn't hit me was his own lack of ability, not by any action on my part. For a moment, Duncan was transformed into the Dark Jedi that had killed Trask, and everything that had happened since I woke up on the Endar Spire caught up with me at once, filling my veins with the white-hot fires of rage and wrath. My hand tightened on the sheath as vision after vision of death and destruction, pain and suffering passed through my mind. Keeping myself in check, I slowly walked towards Duncan, the man's blaster shots going so wide it wasn't even realistic. He expended his only power pack by the time I was halfway across the ring, and drew a tiny vibroknife instead, charging at me like a madman. The weapon pinged off my chestplate without leaving so much as a scratch, and left Duncan in range. He tried a wider slash, aiming for my face, but I blocked him wrist-to-wrist and slammed an open-palmed strike into his chest, stunning Duncan and making him stumble backwards. All of the emotions swirled through me again, and this time I gave in, widening my stance and dropping low, my left hand hovering just over the hilt of my vibroblade. I waited until the tension reached a peak, then drew my blade in a slash that raked across Deadeye Duncan's chest, a powerful roar leaving my throat with such strength that it made the entire arena shudder.

I turned away from Duncan in the silence that followed, taking a calming breath, then flicked my vibroblade down as though to remove blood from it and sheathed it slowly. The second the handguard touched the top of the sheath, Duncan fell over behind me, and the crowd erupted in cheering.

The following days say my fame grow as I climbed up the ladder of the Taris Dueling Ring. The credits barely meant anything to me compared to being able to let off steam and have some fun at the same time. Sure I took a few hits here and there, but I felt at peace on Taris for the first time since I'd arrived. Ironic, considering the nature of my entertainment. Carth and Varen would show up to watch now and then, either together or alone. The rematches against some of my earlier opponents allowed me to try out some different tactics with varying results, to the point that I once fought the veteran duelist Marl with just my knife. _That _left a neat little scar on my left cheek, where Marl got a lucky hit off while I was blocking the other side of his blade. My fame in the arena grew, but I knew better than to let it get to my head. I'd be forgotten as soon as I left the area of Taris's influence. It was better that way, in my opinion.

"Master Ajuur expresses his great pleasure at your success in the dueling ring so far," The B4-class Protocol Droid Ajuur used as his translator said as I arrived in the part of the upper city cantina reserved for duelists, "However, he believes that it is time for the championship match."

I glanced at the Rodian known as Twitch, the current champion of the Taris dueling ring, then looked back at Ajuur and said,

"Are you sure that's a good idea, sending a kid like me against a clinically insane Rodian?" I asked with a grin.

Ajuur's laughter echoed through the cantina in response, and he spouted another round of Huttese. Considering the language's use in the Outer Rim worlds, I should probably have looked into learning it at some point.

"Master Ajuur says that your age has never proved a problem before, and your skills are more than enough to provide a challenge for Twitch. When you have prepared, please report to the ready room."

I nodded and found a chair, activating my comm to call Varen, but paused when I heard more than a few of the duelists make noises of surprise. I looked up from my wrist-comm and saw a wall of golden armor, leading up to a smooth helmet with a dark visor shaped like an inverted triangle. I knew exactly who he was, and I felt a mixture of admiration for his skills and disgust for his methods. This was Bendak Starkiller, the most famous duelist on Taris and the inspiration for many others. Unfortunately he only fought in death matches, and showed no mercy to his opponents, nor respect for their lives.

"So you're the Blue Lion. If I wasn't only interested in fighting death matches, facing you would be fun," Bendak chuckled after I stood and greeted him properly.

"You're talking as though I've already won the championship round," I replied, glancing at my opponent once again. Twitch was being escorted to the ready room by the pair of white-coated medics that stood in as his caretakers.

"You'll win. I've seen both of you fight, and you'll win. This time, you just have to keep your head," Bendak replied, "You'd better get out there, Blue Lion. Best of luck."

The retired champion left the room without so much as a look at the other duelists, and I headed for the ready room, not wanting to be pestered with questions from them or my so-called fans. A Repulsorlift took me down to the small preparation space for the right corner duelist, and I saw that my fellows had left me a datachip. When I plugged it in, I got a combined message of Duncan, Marl, and Gerlon all cheering me on. The last two weeks I'd spent facing them had brought some of the most fun I'd had in a long time, and they'd grown on me. Ice, of course, was as cold as ever, but I knew she wanted me to win as well even if her persona didn't let her say so openly.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is at the request of your honored host Ajuur that this match has been called. It is time to decide who will become the next Champion of the Taris Dueling Arena! In one corner, we have the reigning champion. He's wild, He's unpredictable, and he's the best damned duelist in the game today! Give it up for Twitch!"

The doors slid open and allowed me to step forward and look at my opponent. Just as I'd expected, Twitch had kept to his well-known dual heavy blasters, which meant I had to get into close range as soon as possible.

"In this corner, the rising star! Appearing only a few weeks ago, he's already captured our hearts! The Blue Lion! Never before have I announced a matchup like this, folks. Only time will tell who will be the victor of this fight!"

The bell sounded, and as though that were the signal for a feeding frenzy, Twitch began firing his blasters with the gleam of madness in his insectoid eyes. I tried my best to keep out of his line of fire, circling the outside of the ring, and managed to get my SSK-00 out before one shot glanced off of my shoulder. It stung like a mofo, but I allowed the kinetic momentum to carry me down into a prone position, where I sent a trio of bolts into the Rodian's groin, stomach and chest. I made it back to my feet just in time to see a grenade sphere rolling at me. My annoyance rose a bit, and I punted the explosive back at its owner, hitting him on the top of his head with it. Twitch bounced it once and tried to heabutt it back at me, only to have the device explode in his face. It was a concussion grenade, but that still must have screwed up his sight. I spun my blaster on one finger and dropped it into the holster, then waited for the verdict, or at least for Twitch to get up. The Rodian was lying slumped and in a daze against the wall, and if I'd shared his madness, I probably could have seen little birds orbiting his head.

"I don't believe it, folks, the Blue Lion is allowing Twitch to recover, allowing a chance to end this match easily go by!"

To end the match while Twitch was already down and injured would have been a waste of a chance, and it just wouldn't feel right. I didn't want to earn the title of Champion without putting in the work for it. So I lowered into a kneeling posture and waited, closing my eyes and controlling my breath. The crowd went dead silent as I just stayed still, in a simple form of meditation. Even if I hadn't seen them, I could tell both Carth and Varen had come out to watch me tonight, along with Bendak, the other duelists, and I couldn't be sure, but I suspected the Sith Officer I'd spoken to was there as well. After what seemed like an eternity, I heard Twitch begin to move, and smoothly rose out of my meditation, flipping aside the bottom of the blue-gray duster I'd taken to wearing shortly after I started my dueling career, taking a hold of my vibroblade's sheath. I felt... detached from it all. My Rodian opponent recovered fully and began to fire his blasters at me, but I didn't even feel the sting of the blasts hitting. I just walked forward, slowly, calmly, my eyes locked on my target and not wavering. I'd been here before. Long before Twitch, or even Duncan, before Taris or the Endar Spire. My target was right where he needed to be.

I dimly heard the announcer say something, heard everyone shouting at me, but it all sounded like it was a mile away. Twitch expended his power packs and moved to reload. I unclipped my vibroblade and let the weapon fall to the arena floor, my body dropping automatically into a low crouch, emphasizing power on my back leg. The pressure built, I could feel it beginning to rise higher and higher, until it seemed it would explode long before I had a chance to unleash it on my target. At last, I sprang forward, moving faster than I'd ever thought possible before, and leapt into the air, then went into a controlled spin and drove my foot into Twitch's chest with enough force that I bounced off and was able to land lightly on my feet three meters away. Twitch was standing there, seemingly paralyzed, a glowing symbol of blue energy hovering just over the point of impact. I knew the symbol well, as it was my personal crest long before I'd come to this galaxy. The head of a lion, staring proudly with almost the touch of a smile on its muzzle. Of its own accord my hand raised, and I casually snapped my fingers.

The symbol pulsed with power and energy, then exploded, launching Twitch into the wall of the arena once more, this time fully unconscious. In a flash, everything caught up to me, and I doubled over in pain, finally feeling all of Twitch's shots at once. That ability had been another Fragment, and a more powerful one than I could have ever hoped to access, but at the same time I doubt I'd be able to use the kick without properly retraining myself in it. The arena was swirling around me, and the noise was nearly deafening now. When the pain finally became too much, I welcomed the darkness of sleep, and for once didn't have to deal with the ghosts of the deaths I'd seen haunting me.

* * *

**Ending Notes: Oh I'm going to get so much hell for giving Rain what would commonly be mislabeled as a Force Power so soon. I'm telling you now, it has nothing to do with the Force, and as I said in the chapter, it is another Fragment from Rain's past. Not much else to say on the matter, and I know this whole section might have felt a little rushed, but I wanted a clean division before I reached the Lower City with the next part of the story. The Arena was always another one of those sections in the game that I loved, but having Varen be the one to fight in it wouldn't have felt right. Rain's arena name, the Blue Lion, actually goes deeper than just this story, it's a title he bore in the past as well. All will be explained in time, either in this story or the sequel(yes I'm going to go into KOTOR II as well). Until then, everyone!**


	4. 004: Downward

**Disclaimer: Star Wars, Disney. This is the fourth chapter. I think you get it by now.**

**004: Downward**

Carth and Varen were talking when I woke up. My head was still a blur after that last fight, but I felt a lot more rested than I had since we landed on Taris. One good night of sleep was all I needed, it seemed. Rolling over in bed, I saw that my vibroblade had been recovered, and that the workbench was actually clear of work for once. Mark was up and about as well, which all in all meant that it was time to make our move and pursue Bastila in the lower city. Knowing this, I got out of bed and immediately moved to get dressed, only to have Varen physically get in my way. For a moment I just stared up at the soldier, once again silently questioning why he chose to wear his hair in a mullet, when at last the events of the previous night caught up to me. Not saying a word, I dropped back onto the bed and rubbed my eyes. The sudden silence in the room was deafening, and I felt that they were both waiting for me to say something.

"I screwed up," I stated bluntly, the only thing I felt I could.

"It was another fragment of your past, wasn't it?" Varen asked softly, not responding to my claim. Seeming to sense how I was feeling, Carth let out a sigh and joined the conversation,

"Look, kid, you didn't put us in any danger. There are more than a few people asking how you pulled that little stunt, but nobody's jumping to the conclusion that you're a Jedi, which means we're safe."

"Well _that_ _much_ is good news. But the bad news is that I have to try and explain how it happened to you two. Which I can't, by the way," I replied, "I don't know _how_ I did it, I just did. There won't be any repeats of the kick either. Not until I can access the memories of how I originally trained it."

Fortunately they got the hint that I didn't want to talk about the events of the championship match anymore, and we instead turned our attention back to the mission. It had been decided that Carth would wear the Sith armor, since he was the most recognizable of the three of us, and for the lengths he'd gone to in order to get the uniform in the first place. Due to the condition my Infiltrator Armor was in after my dueling career, I decided it was time to get a replacement set, and called Kebla Yurt's Equipment Emporium ahead to make sure they had one reserved for me. The armor's popularity had shot up after people had seen me use it, and if Taris wasn't being blockaded, I'd likely have gotten a sponsorship from its manufacturer, the Aratech Repulsor Company. While Carth got changed and Varen squeezed back into his own battle suit for the first time in a few weeks, I made the trip just across the road from our apartment complex and palmed the door controls for Kebla's shop. The dark-skinned woman was waiting there with a smile on her face and the new case of armor sitting on her main counter.

"There he is, the Blue Lion himself," Kebla said, pulling me into a surprise hug, "I can't thank you enough for the publicity your success has brought to my little Emporium. If times weren't so tough, I'd give you a discount. Anyways, armor's here, and my droid already cleared your payment. Take a look."

The shopkeeper retreated behind her counter and turned the armor case towards me, flipping the clasps. I took it from there, stepping forward and pushing open the lid of the container. The Infiltrator armor was a bit of an oddity as well, but one Varen had thought fit me well, and after using the set myself, I agreed. The base layer of the armor consisted of a fiber mesh bodysuit, on top of which a set of extremely lightweight alloy plates were bonded, providing a balance of protection and freedom of movement. Due to their nature in being designed for stealth, both the mesh and the plating were colored darkly, the bodysuit just a shade off of black, and the metal (after some persuasion of Kebla) had been repainted midnight blue with a matte finish, so the shine wouldn't give me away if my stealth generator wasn't on.

In an hour's time, all four of our party were headed to the Sith-patrolled turbolift leading down to the Lower City. I'd shed my coat and wore the mesh hood and mask included with the armor kit for the sake of anonymity, not wanting to draw attention to us at the same time as I didn't want to ruin my reputation with the civilians of Taris as being seen working with the Sith.

"Another patrol heading down, eh? May want to watch your backs. The swoop gangs have been getting violent lately. We lost three patrols last week to the Black Vulkars alone," The Guard posted at the elevator said, tapping the controls for us. We boarded the lift and settled in for a long ride, during which Carth changed out of the Sith armor, and Varen supplied my coat from his pack with a grin. Even in the lower city, people would know who the Blue Lion was, and we could use that fame to gather information from people who might otherwise be wary. In return, Varen got my mask, which I found was a little too difficult to breathe in, and it just didn't have the necessary elements on its built-in HUD to make up for that.

"Mark, keep combat protocols to a minimum unless if one of us are directly attacked or engage a target," I commented to my bodyguard. Varen had performed some of the basic upgrades he intended, but hadn't quite managed to get everything finished. Still, Mark was fully operational, and that was good enough for now.

"I UNDERSTAND MY DUTY AND YOUR DESIRE TO PRESERVE THE LIVES OF OTHER SENTIENTS, RAIN. UPDATING CONDITIONALS... COMPLETE."

That was new. I glanced at Varen, who only shrugged, not wanting to take the credit for the statement.

"Remember, we're here for Bastila. Let's not cause any unneccessary suffering. If it's bad in the upper city, you can be sure it's worse down here," I commented, and as the turbolift came to a stop, immediately pulled my blaster and knife, holding them low and together in a two-handed grip. Varen and Carth similarly readied their weapons, and Mark brought his repeating rifle from the magclamp on his back faster than I'd thought possible. The door in front of us opened to show a scene of gang violence, young members of the Rodian and Nikto species fighting for no better reason than to prove their gang was "better". It made me sick, as the Rodians were pushed back and killed. Given a chance on any other world, they could have had a better life, gotten an education, gone on to be productive members of society. Their bloodied faces were added to the others in my mind, another situation I could have stopped had I arrived that much faster. A growl rose in my throat, and my pistol snapped up onto the leader of this little skirmish, aimed right for the side of his head. With their enemies defeated, the Nikto gangsters turned and looked at us, and the lead saw exactly who I was.

His eyes widened in shock just before I put a bolt through his eye. A quick, clean death. More than one who caused suffering like him deserved, but I wouldn't sacrifice my own morals to deal out that kind of judgement. In ten seconds they were all dead, but these weren't added to my list. No, they had provoked the conflict in the first place.

"Rain," Varen said, a worried tone in his voice.

"I'm alright. what's our main lead down here?" I asked, relaxing my stance a little.

"There's two major swoop gangs fighting for control of this sector. The Black Vulkars and the Hidden Beks. The Beks are the more... civilized of the two options, lead by a man named Gadon Thek. We're down here to try and talk to him, see if he has any idea where Bastila might be, or at least where her escape pod crashed," Carth replied, "Their base shouldn't be too far from here, just past Jayvar's Cantina."

We moved quickly and quietly down the corridors of the lower city, until we found the single lookout posted in front of a more _reinforced_ door than the others in the area. Varen motioned for us to wait there and went ahead to speak to the lookout alone. They were talking too softly for me to hear, but after a few minutes, Varen returned and the Lookout opened the door for us, though her eyes showed she was incredibly wary, especially when Mark passed. The Bek gangsters watched us carefully as we approached the single desk in the main area of their base, which was guarded by a pale twi'lek female. Behind her, I could see Gadon Thek, a strong, dark-skinned man with no hair but a simple goatee and mustache, his eyes misted over. With a start I realized that he was blind. As we approached, I signaled Mark to deactivate his combat protocols, and the Droid returned his rifle to its magclamp slowly, seeming to understand the need to not provoke these people.

"Hold on, who do you think you are, just coming in here unannounced?" The Twi'lek snapped, moving between us and her boss, "Probably Vulkar spies sent to kill us all when we least expect it! You _know_ they've been getting desperate, Gadon!"

"Done," I said, turning on my heel, preparing to leave. It was bad enough that our only lead just happened to be a criminal organization, but now they were throwing insults and making false accusations. I'd had enough of the lower city within twenty minutes of being down there.

"Excuse me?" The Twi'lek laughed mirthlessly, "What was that, little spy?"

The growl rose in my throat of its own accord, and I knew that if I didn't get out of there, I was going to make an irreversible mistake that would likely cost Varen and Carth their chance at finding Bastila. Even if they were the lesser of two evils, these people still contributed to the suffering of Taris through their actions.

"Nothing to say? Maybe you're just going to report back to your boss that we saw through your idiotic plan."

"Look, there's nothing to be gained from provoking us. We're not here to fight you, we're here to ask for your help," Varen said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Just so you can stab us in the ba-" The Twi'lek guard didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before I cleared the distance between us and threw her to the ground with one of the basis Jujitsu techniques I'd learned. I knelt over her, keeping pressure on her center of gravity, and let the blade of my knife hover above her throat, just enough that she'd feel the sonic vibrations but not in cutting range.

"If I was a spy, if I was here to kill you, you'd already be dead," I said, "And I wouldn't do it for the Vulkars, but because your gang is one of the causes of suffering on this planet."

"Oh boy, I should have known you'd be coming to see us eventually," Gadon laughed, his deep voice producing a booming sound that echoed through the entire base, "Zaerdra means well, if she is a bit overzealous at times. Welcome to the Lower City, Blue Lion."

I released the Twi'lek, Zaerdra, and moved to stand with my team again, dropping my weapons back into their holsters. Carth's hands moved away from the grips of his blasters, and the entire base seemed to relax at once.

"Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not the one leading this little trip," I replied, "I'll leave you to negotiate while I go clear my head."

Zaerdra opened her mouth, likely to claim I was reporting back to my "boss", but was thankfully silenced by a look from Gadon. I could feel the Beks' eyes on me as I left their base, and I found myself wandering the lower city. The few people I found down there that weren't passed out drunk, high on just about every spice known to the galaxy, or members of the Black Vulkars all cowered in fear, as if they were afraid I'd cause more trouble for them. The very concept made me sick to my stomach. The second I could, I activated my stealth field generator and slipped into a run-down apartment complex. I was just in time to see a bounty hunter with a rather distinctive white hat and sky blue coat holstering his pistols, the smoking bodies of a pair of Rodians on the ground in front of him.

"Come out," Was all the hunter said. I let out a sigh and flipped off my generator, staring into the black goggles of the legendary Bounty Hunter known as Calo Nord. We just stood and stared at each other in silence, hands away from our weapons. Still, from what I'd heard about him, Calo was one hell of a quick-draw artist, and the only way I'd be able to match that if we came to blows was to use my vibroblade, which left me at a range disadvantage. Even with my status as Taris's dueling ring champion, I knew I couldn't take Calo in a straight fight. He'd taken down much greater targets than I before he got trapped on Taris and pulled into a contract with the crime lord Davik Kang.

"I know better than to fight you now," I said, hoping to get in what I wanted to say before Calo began his famous three-count, "But believe me when I say that we will face off one day. You've caused too much pain for me to ignore you. When that day comes, may the better man win."

I offered my hand to the bounty hunter, whose face was expressionless as always. After a moment, Calo Nord gave a slight nod and shook my hand, then walked past me and left me standing alone in the dim lighting of the hallway. My comm beeped, and I welcomed the distraction from the duel I'd just promised to one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy.

"Good news and bad news," Varen started.

"Same on my end," I chuckled, "Would you like to go first or should I?"

"I'll go. The good news is that we know where Bastila is. The bad news is that the Black Vulkars are keeping her as a slave."

Slavery, outlawed by the Republic, but it still existed in Outer Rim worlds like this. The very practice made me sick, to willingly take away the freedom of another being that was by all technicality your equal. Hearing that Bastila was a slave added a new reason for me to want to save her.

"Rain, you know if you keep growling like that you're going to lose your voice," Varen said with a smirk.

"I can't help it. It just sort of _happens_," I sighed, "Anyways, bad news on my end is that I just challenged Calo Nord to an eventual duel. The good news is that I managed to avoid pissing myself."

I heard a load of laughter on the other end and knew Carth had been listening in. Varen passed me a set of coordinates back near the turbolift we'd arrived in the lower city on, and I met them there a minute later to plan our next move. As soon as I arrived, Varen passed me a data chip, which contained authorization codes from the Sith allowing free reign on all sectors of Taris, I noted that they had been carefully edited for me personally. I didn't know how Varen had become so skilled in just about every trade he picked up, and I wasn't about to question the blessing he was to our mission. Without the Private, we likely wouldn't have made it even this far.

"As things stand, we need to make it into the Under City, and from there find a Twi'lek named Mission Vao. She's got the codes we need to get past the shields and into the Black Vulkar base. They have a prototype swoop bike accelerator that the Beks. We help them, and they'll give us the information we need to make it to Bastila," Varen explained, checking the power pack of his rifle, "The Under City is well known to be infested with Rakghouls, slavers, and twitchy mercenaries that'll likely shoot first and ask questions later. Oh wait, that's right... you haven't been vaccinated for the Rakghoul plague."

"Technically, I haven't been vaccinated for anything. The fact I've survived this long without catching a deadly virus is nothing short of a miracle," I chuckled, but I could see the surprised look on the faces of both of my teammates. It was enough to tell me that I was going to be sitting this next part out back at the apartment, probably after one of them dragged me to the nearest medcenter and held me down while a doctor or medi-droid injected me with chemicals that likely had numerous unwanted sideaffects. Lo and behold, Carth was the one to take that job, leaving Varen and Mark to perform an initial sweep of the Under City. The fewer surprises we ran into the better, and Varen knew he would receive hell from both Carth and I if he did anything _important_ while we were busy with something that could very easily have waited until after we'd freed Bastila.

I suppose it was time for a bit of a confession. I'd always hated medicine, chemicals, drugs, anything that could potentially alter the natural balance of my body's functions. I would always fight having to take any pills, even if I was damn near writhing in pain from whatever was ailing me at the time. If I was meant to survive the illness, I would. If I'd suffered an injury and was in pain, that pain was my reward for getting hurt in the first place. To take the easy way out felt cowardly too, like I was denying nature its potential right to take me if it was technically my time. Age tempered that to some extent, where I'd only allow medication if the situation was truly life-threatening, but here in another galaxy I didn't want anything in my bloodwork that could potentially be picked up by the doctors when I went back home. That would lead to far too many questions as to where I'd been in the first place, and things would only get worse for me.

_Provided you survive this galaxy in the first place. You've made some bold claims, Lion, and there's nothing guaranteeing you can back them up. The fact you won the Taris Dueling Championship was a fluke and nothing else._

Oh hey, there was that voice again. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was the start of a downward spiral into mental illness.

"You've been awfully quiet," Carth said as we re-entered the sector our apartment was in, as well as Kebla's Equipment Emporium and a medcenter my friends were on good standing with.

"Plotting my revenge," I replied, when in actuality I'd been looking at my codex while I had a chance during the long travel time. We soon entered the small, underfunded hospital ran by Zelka Forn, who smiled at us as we entered.

"Nice to finally meet you, Blue Lion. I've heard tale of your exploits in the dueling ring and out of it. Nice to see someone's trying to take the fight back to the corrupt crime lords," Zelka said, "You seem to be in perfect health, so what can I do for you boys?"

"Believe it or not, Rain doesn't have any of the standard galactic vaccinations," Carth answered, "We came to correct that before we do some work in the Under City."

Zelka looked at me with a look of disbelief, then gestured for me to take a seat in one of the examination chairs.

"I'll need to take a blood sample, of course. The Sith implemented a policy of checking the midi-chlorian counts of anyone who passes through. Probably trying to catch any Force-sensitives they can to keep up their supply of Dark Jedi." I could hear the tone of disgust clearly in Zelka's voice, and we knew his silent stance as a sideline supporter of the Republic. Behind the employees-only door in the back were a pair of comatose pilots from the Endar Spire, critically wounded by the conflict and just barely brought from death's door. I had to go into a sort of semi-meditation in order to prevent myself from freaking out when Zelka drew the blood, but it was the odd beep from his handheld scanner that made me worry a bit.

"Why did it beep like that? I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to beep like that," I said, coming out of my trance-like state too early and feeling the residual pain in my arm from the doctor's hypo.

"This is... strange. Hold on, I need to run this through on the main computer," Zelka muttered mostly to himself, moving around his work area like a man half his age. After about twenty minutes, Zelka finally turned to me and asked in a quiet voice, "I'm not quite sure how to explain what I just saw in your results. I had to run it through multiple times to be sure, but... your Midi-Chlorian count is spiking wildly by the second, some times going as low as ten or twenty, and it reached as high as three thousand on one of the repeats. You'd have to speak to a Jedi to ask what it means, because I honestly don't know. Other than that, you have an exceptional natural immune system, which is likely the reason you've managed to fight off the illnesses that should have by all rights killed you within days of exposure. Still, if you're going into the Under City, I'd suggest that you get the standard round of vaccines for your own safety. The only thing I'm lacking, and likely the most important of the line, is the Rakghoul Serum. Without it, even a light scratch from one of those beasts is enough to mutate you into one of their kind."

"Doesn't sound like how I want to spend my weekend," I grumbled, shifting in the chair as Zelka prepared my shots. Okay, I had a dislike for chemicals, and a slight fear of needles. Anyone who would willingly subject themself to pain was an idiot... yet here I was. My revenge against Carth and Varen would be so sweet. I re-entered my trance with only seconds to spare, but even through that state I could feel the countless alien chemicals burning through my blood like a poison. It took a more willed effort to keep myself calm, reminding myself that the doctor was trying to help, and would never willingly poison me.

"I don't believe it... normally there's a sleep aid included in the mix so you can nap away the sideaffects of the vaccines. By all rights you should be fast flat on your rear right now," Zelka coughed after seeing me still awake for a few minutes after the injection. I just smiled at him and rose from the chair, pulling on my coat and checking the chrono on my wrist-comm. The idea of a nap _was_ starting to sound appealing, and I knew I was going to be in a lot of pain the second I lost my trance. With that in mind, I said my goodbyes to the doctor and joined Carth at the door.

* * *

When I awoke some time later, I checked my chrono and found that a grand total of eight hours had passed. In turn that likely meant my team had gone on without me. It seemed almost a careful plan to keep me out of the Under City business entirely. They had to have known about the sideaffects and the sleep aid, which meant that Varen had intended for me to be passed out. Grumbling in annoyance, I activated the comm and dialed his frequency.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Varen joked, his face split by the largest grin I'd ever seen on a human face.

"I'm going to hurt you when I catch up," I stated calmly. The sound of blaster fire in the background told me that I might not have claim to that, and Varen glanced at something off to his left.

"Yeah, I don't doubt it. We've come to a decision on how future outings are going to be performed, though. Teams of three are small enough to not draw too much unwanted attention. We... err... _recruited_ two new squad members. Say hello, Mission and Zaalbar!" The last statement was directed off screen, and I heard a young girl's voice shout over the firefight,

"Get your rear in gear, old man! There's too many for you to just be sitting there chatting!"

"I like Mission already," I commented with a smirk, drawing an exasperated sigh from the Private before he cut the call. I mentally tried to process the news. We now had new team members? What did Varen have to promise them in order to get the pair to join us for the long haul? With a shrug, I cast the thoughts from my mind and turned my attention to some basic weapons maintenance, making sure everything was cleaned and ready for my next outing. There were currently five members of our little group, six if you counted Mark. That meant that by the time we had Bastila with us, the likelihood of me getting called to join in on the action was little to none. Kind of depressing, really, since I'd proven I could handle myself in a firefight by now. Or was I being benched for a different reason?

I felt an odd tug on my senses, and let it guide my eyes to the small compartment by the bed where I'd hidden the Lightsaber. With a sad smile I went and retrieved the weapon, balancing it in my palm. It still had the ash and carbon left on it from the traumatic experience that lead to my possession of the weapon, something I now intended to correct. Cleaning the weapon's casing was easy, but I felt that I needed to make sure all of the internal mechanics were still in proper order. Even if the blade ignited, that didn't mean that there couldn't potentially be a leak in the power cell, or some other technical fault that would end up biting me in the arse later. The issue was, I couldn't figure out how to take the lightsaber apart. It hadn't exactly come with an owner's manual, and I was afraid of causing permanent damage to the physical memory of the Jedi who'd given her life to protect me.

_That entire situation was botched. Trask was an idiot to throw that grenade, but didn't even seem at all remorseful that he'd caused her death. He likely went against that Dark Jedi to try and avoid the eventual confrontation between you._

Oh great, the voice was back. I did my best to ignore it, and continued to inspect the lightsaber, trying to find some trick to taking it apart. When an hour passed and no solution presented itself, I replaced the weapon in its hiding spot and flopped back down on the bed. If I didn't find something to do with my life soon, I'd go completely insane. I didn't want to go back to the Dueling Ring due to the strangeness with the last fight, and the questions that would no doubt be asked as a result. I also didn't want to go full-on vigilante and start hunting down the bounty hunters. That would be taking too aggressive a stance on the situation, and I didn't want to bring down the full weight of Davik's forces on me. My comm beeped a few minutes later, this time from a frequency I didn't recognize. Whoever was at the other end didn't have a projector on their comm, but I recognized the voice as Mission's.

"Hey, Varen called for a team switch for the Vulkar base raid. Carth and Big Z are headed back to the apartment. Think you can get here?"

"Yeah," I replied, glad that I hadn't been blown off entirely... _yet_, "Have the big guy in charge contact me as soon as I get into the Lower City. I'll need the coordinates so I don't get lost trying to find you."

I cleared the Sith checkpoint within twenty minutes, and checked my map again while on my way down the turbolift to the Under City. If the coloring could be believed, the Under City was the lowest portion of Taris, and one of the rare places where natural organic life grew. Of course, said organic life consisted mainly of strange mushrooms and gray ashy dirt, but it was better than the constant durasteel and plasteel of both the upper and lower cities. When Varen contacted me for the coordinates, he'd warned me about the poverty in the Under City, but he'd at least helped the group that lived in a small settlement by the turbolift find the way back to their "Promised Land". He also claimed to have a few samples of the Rakghoul Serum that Zelka needed, sending most of them with Carth and Zaalbar, but reserving one for when I arrived. Until that point, I was reliant on the Infiltrator Armor's mask to keep the only area of my body that had been unprotected safe from any random Rakghoul attacks.

Believe me, there were random Rakghoul encounters all over the place. I think I killed about twenty of the gray-skinned mutants before I even reached an entrance to the sewers. As much as I was enjoying being back on _terra firma_ in the classical sense, the sewers were another construct of metal and absolutely nasty water. If I didn't have my mask to filter the smells out, I'd likely have lost my lunch. On that note, I really needed to have a talk with Varen about the ration bars he'd bought in bulk from Larrim. They were fine, and did come in a few flavors I found mildly enjoyable, but I needed some _variety _in my diet. Maybe I'd hit the cantina after this for a nerf steak. According to Marl, the cantina seasoned them quite well. When I actually looked up what the heck a nerf _was_, I was delighted to find out that they were similar to my home planet's cattle, only exponentially more adorable. I was fairly convinced that the only reason the writers of _My Little Kath Hound_ didn't use Nerfs as the main character species was due to a lack of verbal flow, and _My Little Nerfy_ wouldn't have gone over as well, I suspect. Still somewhat lost in thought, I came upon Varen talking with a Rutian Twi'lek that was actually close to my age. She was dressed in gray and black clothes, abundant with pockets, sporting a blaster and vibroblade on her hips and seeming quite competent with each. I was pretty sure that given a few years, Mission would end up being quite the beauty.

"Wait, that coat... You didn't tell me Rain was the Blue Lion!" Mission squealed, casting an accusing finger at Varen. The older man only chuckled in response and gave his trademark shrug. Great, Varen had recruited a fangirl. This was not going to end well for my mental health. I could see _that_ quite clearly.

"I'll brief you further on the turbolift," Varen commented to me, and tried to put in the access codes to unlock said lift's doors. When it gave a rebellious beep, I finally realized that there was one area our team leader's skills lacked.

"Here, let me," Mission said with an exasperated sigh. within five seconds she had the door open, and we all boarded the turbolift that would take us right into the heart of enemy territory.

"Long story short, Mission and Zaalbar are fully aware of what we're here for, and both have agreed to help us find Bastila and get off of Taris. That, and Zaalbar swore a life debt to me for saving him from slavers," The Private seemed a little embarrassed about that detail, but continued his explanation, "I called you for this run because I had a feeling you'd want to strike a crippling blow to one of the groups that's causing the most suffering to Taris. We're hitting their communications network first so they can't call in any backup. From there... cut loose."

"I should feel happy, knowing that I'm finally getting to do a major job, but I still can't help but feel that things could have been very different."

The Soldier put a hand on my shoulder and smiled sadly, "I know how you feel, Rain. But they made their choice, and now they're going to pay for it."

I nodded, readying my blaster and knife as the Turbolift slowly ground to a halt. Whatever came out of this battle, I'd have no regrets. The Vulkars had made their choices, and now I was going to make mine.

* * *

**Ending Notes: Yes, yes, I know I cut out the entirety of the Under City, and I have multiple reasons for it. First, I always found that entire section of Taris some of the most boring. The Vulkar base is worse, but I felt that there was a symbolism to the raid on it that Rain needs to take part of. Second, if Rain had met Canderous before he had a certain calming influence to hold him back, there would have been a lot of spilled blood. Third, the entire outcast society would have had Rain pretty much handing them all of the team's credits just so he felt less terrible about it. I can't say much about Zaalbar's rescue, but due to Rain being the dominant justice-bringing personality of the group right now, the Wookiee may have sworn the debt to him instead of Varen, which would have some consequences later. As of right now I have no intention of making Rain a Jedi, but by no means will he be a lesser member of the team for it. The worries about being benched are legitimate though, since most people use a rather select party in their runs of KOTOR, and that leaves the other members to just twiddle their thumbs until either they're required to be on a mission or have a backstory segment. For those questioning the weirdness in Rain's midi-chlorian count, that's another part of his backstory and locked memories that will be explored another time. Until then, everyone!**

**On a side note, this chapter actually ended up being the longest, with a file size of 32kb instead of the previous maximum of 30kb. Even with that, I feel the second half of the chapter is a little rushed. Maybe I'll come back and touch it up in a rewrite later. Curses, now that has me wanting to talk about how many times I had to just completely redo this chapter because it didn't feel right. ARGH!**

Mark: "THE KEYBOARD IS NOT A THREAT, RAIN."

**Quiet, you! Or I'll turn you into a complete background character! You're already inches away from being one, you know!**

Mark: "ACKNOWLEDGED."


	5. 005: Raid

**Disclaimer: Star Wars is owned by Disney. I should really just settle for a copy-paste disclaimer and stop personalizing the damned things.**

**005: Raid**

The turbolift doors opened, revealing a storage area filled with clutter, mostly in the form of empty crates. As a group we slowly slipped forward through a pair of doors before coming upon a long corridor lined with evenly spaced doors. I spotted a patrolling security droid at the end of the hall, but no other immediate signs of life. Varen signalled us back into the storage room and plucked a blue grenade sphere from his pack, notable for a pair of yellow swirls around its frame. He slid back the cover preventing the activation button from being pressed and mouthed to us "Ion grenade." I nodded and watched as Varen held the button on the grenade for five seconds to effectively set its timer, then rolled it down the hall towards the enemy droid. One display of lightning later, and we had an enemy droid down. A few more skirmishes and ion grenades, and it became rather clear that our original plan of disabling the comm network wasn't going to happen. First off, we had no proper map of the base, and even with our best efforts we wouldn't be able to sneak past all of the Vulkar forces. Still, the population on the current level was thin, save for a few more security droids, and I took a bit of pleasure in putting a blaster bolt through the head of a grimy Duros bartender. With that work finished, we moved into the kitchens, and a wave of rage passed over me. A Vulkar was viciously beating a young woman dressed in tattered clothes. Mission let out a sound of disgust, but I did more than that. Dropping my blaster and knife into their resting places, I weaved forward rapidly and sent a surprise knee-bash into the man's back, sending him tumbling over the crouched form of the woman and crashing into a private table to lay in a daze. I gently guided the injured slave to her feet and passed her off to Mission, then dropped back into my drawing stance, one hand bracing the sheath of my vibroblade, the other hovering just above the hilt.

"Holy Sith he's going to do it!" Mission was apparently going full fangirl on me, and if I wasn't about to remove one particularly nasty piece of scum from the world, I would have given her a look that would have put an end to that behavior rather quickly. The man recovered slowly and turned to look at what had hit him, and found me instead. He bore a stunned expression into the afterlife, and I took a deep breath, flicking the blood from my blade and returning it to its sheath.

"I think I should keep you and Mission together just to see how long it takes for your annoyance to reach critical mass," Varen chuckled, seeming to sense the glare I was giving Mission behind my mask. I ignored the private and went to the sobbing woman, wishing I could do something to make her feel safe. I left Varen and Mission to comfort her, instead going to the bar and trying to regain my calm. As much as I wanted to go on a rampage, we still had a job to do, and I wasn't going to compromise it. When it finally came time for me to cut loose, there would be no salvation for anyone who got in my way. Varen and Mission soon rejoined me with information they'd been able to get out of the former slave. Bastila wasn't on-site since she was apparently being offered up as the prize for the first swoop race of the season. That didn't stop us from having to get the Prototype Accelerator though, which involved obtaining a key card from one of the higher-ups in the gang. Varen had already gone over the possibility of us crashing the race and saving Bastila, but in order to even find out where it was being held we needed to complete our end of the bargain with the Hidden Beks. I wanted _off _of this planet as soon as possible, but I couldn't afford to get sloppy no matter how close we got to the end. That was a sure-fire route to an early grave.

_You're growing, and you can't deny it. The opponents you faced here have grown up in violence, and know it like breathing. Yet you defeated them. It is time to stop living a lie, and accept the entirety of the combat skills you keep trying to hide._

I quieted that voice and followed my team members on a wrecking ball run of the Vulkar base's main level, killing any who came in our way with well-placed blaster bolts or lightning fast swordsmanship. Looking back at my experiences on Taris, I realized that the voice was right to some extent. By this point all of the clumsiness, and with it the fearful restraint I'd shown on the Endar Spire was gone. My abilities had improved far more than they should have during that period, and now that I had recognized how much, it almost frightened me.

"Something wrong?" Varen asked, still clearing the pockets of the room of Vulkars we'd just killed. One of them had the key card we needed, which meant our current objective would be finished soon so I could go back to the apartment and have some time to think. It was almost funny. When I was given action, I craved peace, and when given peace I craved action. The inability to find a balance between the two was a contributing factor to my swelling insanity.

"I'm fine," I said the half-truth with what I hoped would pass as a reassuring tone, checking once again to make sure the mini-map in my mask had linked up to the one in my wrist-comm properly. If I was going to be using the mask for a bit, it made sense to at least have it at full functionality. I'd finally found the customization controls on the trip between rooms, and had immediately done what I could to make the HUD bearable for me. The only reason I was even using it was due to the fact that Varen and Mission were likely still carrying some bio-matter on them that had the Rakghoul Plague. I didn't want to risk contact and a slow, painful death, even if the Private supposedly still had a serum for me. I'd had enough needles and chems for one day, thank you very much.

"You're a lot different in person compared to how I saw you fight in the Ring..." Mission sounded a little disappointed, and I whirled to face the Twi'lek girl. She let out a little 'Meep' and tried to hide behind Varen.

"There's a difference between fighting for show, and fighting for keeps. If you don't know the difference then you may want to consider a non-combat role in our team," I said, trying to keep from sounding too harsh. That had mixed results, including an amused smile from Varen. Mission was giving me a glare that could melt durasteel from two hundred yards in sharp contrast, making me notice how beautiful her brown eyes were, seeming to almost glow amber in the right light.

"Hey, why are you looking at me like that?" She asked, "Don't tell me you're going to propose to me out of nowhere!"

"I don't date my own fangirls. It usually causes the others to go rabid," I replied, "And I usually take the recipient of my affections out on at least three dates before I even begin to consider a proper romantic relationship."

"Smart kid. Save yourself a fair bit of heartache that way," Varen chipped in, "Mission, you don't have to run the lower level of the Vulkar base with us, now that the front door's clear. If you'd rather get some rest, I can call Big Z or Carth to take over."

"That reminds me," I said, giving the delegated team leader a piercing look, "Where the bloody hell is Mark?"

"I locked down his programming and left him with the Beks for a paint job. Don't worry, I kept your color preferences in mind," Varen said, "He should be ready by the time we return with the accelerator."

"You left a droid with gangsters for a paint job? I'm not quite making the connection here," I admitted as we started for another turbolift, one that would take us to the garage level.

Mission decided to fill in the information this time. Growing up on Taris _would_ provide a bit of insight into how the criminal side of things worked. "They're not just gangs, they're _swoop_ gangs. Their bikes are like their life. And making a droid look pretty isn't so different from doing a job on a swoop bike. Plus, I can vouch for the Beks. They're good people."

"When they _choose_ to be," I replied quickly, "They may have their up days, but I don't trust anyone that organizes themselves in that fashion. If they have a moral code it has to be stretched pretty damn thin."

"Yikes. You've got some strong opinions for a duelist," Mission laughed, "Is it true you challenged Calo Nord to a fight?"

"Go ahead and blab all of my secrets, why don't you?" I grumbled, glaring at the private.

"Hey, I thought it would improve your image, so why not?"

I suppressed the urge to give the Private a moderate concussion. He apparently wanted to torture me as much as possible with Mission's fangirl syndrome, and that was something I'd try to clear up before it ended up going somewhere it didn't need to. The turbolifts opened on the lower level of the Vulkar base, and every head snapped to look at us.

"We're screwed, aren't we?" Mission asked softly. The slight twinge of fear in her voice set something off in me, and I knew it was time to play the hero for a moment. I casually swaggered out of the lift and dramatically flipped aside the tail of my coat, casting my gaze across the Vulkars. I activated the glowing visor feature included on the mask for an extra point of intimidation, even as the aliens and humans began to move for their blasters.

"If you have any idea who I am, you'll start running," I said, projecting my voice as much as I could. I dropped back into my drawing stance for one more hint, and finally the recognition hit in a slow wave.

"It's the Blue Lion!" One of the Vulkars screamed, sounding much like a little girl. That was enough to send the rest into a panic. In a flash I switched stances, pulling my blaster and placing deadly shots into as many as I could. Their own bolts just whizzed harmlessly past me. If there was one thing I'd learned about Tarisian marksmanship, it was that staying still was better than trying to dodge. So there I was, standing tall and proud at the eye of the storm like a badass. It was either a sign of my insanity, or I'd absorbed Trask's manliness when he died. Then again, that was impossible since Trask didn't have a beard, which was one of the key components that truly made a man a man.

"Hey, you still with us?" Mission asked, waving her blue-skinned hand in front of my face.

"I'm about seventy-thirty," I answered, checking to see what the HUD had to say about my blaster's current power pack. For safety's sake I ejected it and plugged another into the slot.

"If you're wearing out, you both can switch for Big Z and Carth," Varen said, his pack stuff with field-dissasembled parts from the downed Vulkars' weapons.

"I'm going to see this one through," I replied, the growl rising in my throat, "If I give in to my own limitations without a fight the whole persona I've made for myself will shatter. Trust me, you don't want to see me have an emotional breakdown. I'm not talking about one of those little moping sessions I seem to always have when something goes bad either."

"We're close to the end now," The Private reassured me, "Just keep it together for a little longer and you can go back to a normal life."

"No... even then I won't be able to," I sighed, "Calo Nord's expecting a duel from me, the Republic's likely going to draft me when they get the report about this operation... and the Sith have an idea of who I am by now. I'm damned to fight for the rest of my days."

A Vulkar made the mistake of poking his head out from one of the side halls, and received a blaster bolt to the head for good measure. It was also a good demonstration of my point.

"How the heck do you keep getting headshots so easily?" Varen grumbled, his own skills probably feeling a bit hurt.

"A combination of luck, aiming, and waiting for the right time to pull the trigger. Even then I'm still a bit off of my actual target, which is right between their eyes. I blame the lack of proper sights on the SSK," I replied, "It was an oversight by the manufacturers that I hope will be fixed in later models. Anyways, we've been standing in an open area long enough. Time to hunt down the stragglers and get that swoop accelerator."

We cleared out a few rooms after that, and the close-quarters forced our team to rely on blades instead of blasters. It was a good chance to see where Mission's blade skills were. Since she was by no means a power-hitter, I wanted to start teaching her some fencing when we had the time. As it stood, I casually deflected the vibrosword of my current opponent with a flick of my wrist and stepped forward in a quick thrust, my keen blade piercing the man's heart. Once the remaining rooms were empty, we had eliminated all potential alternatives for where the Prototype Accelerator was being stored. We entered the room to find a pair of Twi'leks waiting for us. A green male and an orange female.

"So, we have visitors. Lackeys conned by Gadon to steal Brejik's engine, I bet!" The male said, looking over us with an amused expression.

"Brejik stole that engine from Gadon! It was never yours to begin with!" Mission snapped indignantly.

"Well I didn't go through all of this trouble just to have it stolen back for that old fool!"

"Would you like me to dispose of these Bek spies, Kandon?" The orange female asked, her eyes bearing the coldness of a trained assassin.

"No, wait a minute. You aren't wearing the Bek colors, so you must be freelance mercenaries. How would you like to do a job for us, and get paid _double_ what the Beks are offering?"

I let out an annoyed sigh and felt the distinct need to comment on the situation.

"You guys are all the same. When things go bad, you make a desperate bid to turn the one who just wrecked the entirety of your forces into an ally. Except you're forgetting something rather important. I'm no mercenary, and I came here to put an end to the Vulkars of my own accord. Working with the Beks was just a means to an end for me," I said, mentally preparing myself for what promised to be a difficult fight, even if we didn't have to worry about the Twi'lek's reinforcements.

"Hold on a second," Varen interjected, "What kind of work are you talking about?"

"If you even consider working with them, I'll kill you myself, and you know that's not an idle threat," My voice came out as a cold whisper. Varen flinched in surprise, and I turned my attentions back to our enemies.

"Oh my, quite ferocious for one so young. Still, your overbearing sense of morality makes it clear that I can't persuade you to work for us. Most unfortunate," Kandon sighed.

"Should I kill them now, my love?" The orange Twi'lek asked, unsheathing a vibrosword as though she already expected the answer.

"Yes Darling. Kill them. Kill them all," Kandon replied, matching his lover's smile. The orange Twi'lek's eyes and mine locked, and we slowly maneuvered out into the corridor, where we'd have room for our own battle without interference. I flipped aside the tail of my coat and dropped my blaster back in its holster, then shifted my hand up to the sheath of my vibroblade. I knew my _Iaido _draw wouldn't be a killing strike this time, but it would serve as an opening move that would hopefully provide me a chance to start pushing her back. She advanced on me rapidly, her sword flashing in a pattern meant more to distract than to actually injure me, and in a flash my own blade was out, clashing against hers with an array of sparks. We disengaged and circled each other for a moment before I lead in with a few quick jabs, trying to test her speed to know exactly what I was up against. Then it was back to circling, waiting for an opening to present itself.

"We're getting nowhere like this," I sighed, after a few unsuccessful engagements "It's a bit frustrating, to be honest. If we don't hurry our duel along one of our groups of allies will be along to interfere, and that'd be a shame."

"Then you're enjoying this as much as I am?" The Twi'lek asked, a seductive undertone in her words.

"Admittedly I am. You're providing a pleasant change from most of the people I've had to fight lately. Nobody on Taris seems to understand the meaning of finesse. They just beat a problem into submission where a single well-placed strike will do," I answered, feigning a jab at her legs, then turning the tip of my vibroblade upwards with as much speed as I could muster, leaving a thin cut along her cheek. This only seemed to make my opponent's face line up with joy as she disengaged and pressed two fingers to the spot, then looked at her own blood.

"First blood," She purred, then raised her sword in salute, I returned the motion respectfully and we met again. A few more rounds later, I wondered what was keeping Mission and Varen.

"I must say, you're pretty amazing," The Twi'lek said after I gave her a cut on her right cheek to match the one on her left.

"Oh?" I asked, "Then why do you smile?"

"Because I'm not left-handed." My opponent disengaged and tossed her blade into her right hand, then came at me with a newly-found speed. forcing me on the defensive. I caught a glimpse of my teammates just standing at the entrance to the room I left them in, staring dumbly. I broke off from my opponent and danced back a few steps, taking a breath to try and calm myself and keep the adrenaline in check. She seemed to understand what I was doing and gave me a sad smile. No, it wasn't fair to hold back my feelings in this fight, not when my opponent was showing hers openly. If this was to be our last fight, I wanted it to mean something more. The Twi'lek was a worthy opponent, and in a sense another victim of Taris. When this was over, I knew she'd be added to the list. I pulled off my mask and tossed is aside, then let my coat join it. I felt the growl rise in my throat, and let it turn into a feral roar that shook the Vulkar base to its foundations.

I pulled out all of the stops, my blade becoming a blur of silver and dark blue, sparks flying through the hall as we clashed against each other again and again. I let the rage, the hurt, spiral through me, pushing my abilities out of the conscious and into what my body actually knew compared to my mind. Given any other option, placed anywhere else, this Twi'lek woman could have been a force for good. Instead she'd been lured in by the Vulkars, and made to do their corrupted work. Her sword was tainted with innocent blood.

"There you go," She purred during a pause in the combat. We were both breathing heavily now, and the exhaustion I felt from fighting through the Under City and into the Vulkar base was catching up with me. "I have done terrible things, but I could not break my contract with the Vulkars. To do so would be to die by unworthy hands. I've been waiting for you to free me.. but my honor will not allow me to give up without a fight. This planet seems cursed to corrupt all who walk on it, yet you stand as a beacon, an example of what people can be if they learn to resist it."

"Please, there has to be some other way," I growled, not at all ashamed of the tears that were streaming down my face. She was remorseful for her crimes, I could feel it in the way she spoke. That meant she could be redeemed, and possibly made an ally. She seemed to know what was going through my head, and smiled sadly once more.

"If you disarm me and let me live, I am still under the Vulkar's contract. Brejik will kill me for my failure to stop you. If I run, they will hunt me down, and I will still die. Only you can provide me a worthy death, a warrior's death."

We met one more time, but the feel of the entire battle had shifted. She was still putting up a challenge, pushing me to go further and further, to use skills and tactics I didn't even know I had. At last, my vibroblade found a hole in her defenses, and sent the sword flying from her grasp. I didn't want to strike the final blow, but I understood that it was a greater mercy than leaving her to Brejik. The last stroke landed, and I gently lowered my opponent to the floor, cradling her head. She was smiling as she passed, and let out a sigh of content as her last breath.

"_Requiescat in pace_," I murmured, bowing my head in respect. Varen joined me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"There was nothing you could do, Rain. But you fulfilled her last wish," The Private said, gently taking the prototype vibroblade from my grasp. I didn't even want to look at the weapon right now, and what made the whole thing even worse was that I couldn't give the Twi'lek woman a proper burial. If we laid her to rest in the Under City, the Rakghouls would just dig up the body. I realized that I didn't even know her name, and that just made me feel even worse.

"Mission, get Rain back to the apartment, I'll wrap up here," Varen murmured.

* * *

The night passed, and Varen came back to the Apartment to report that there was still a day to wait until the Taris Season Opener, and that he had been drafted by the Beks to race in it. I was still an emotional train wreck after the Vulkar base, but I was doing my best to try and keep up appearances for my team. Carth, well, being _Carth_ had to ask why I was so worked up over killing a Vulkar. Mission intervened for my sake, trying to her best to explain what had happened. I was thankful for it, but I didn't want to think about the Twi'lek warrior anymore. Instead I just stayed on the bed, blankly staring at the wall.

"Rain," Varen said, "I know you're still torn up, but..." He produced the sword that my Twi'lek opponent had used, a slim weapon with a gentle curve to the blade, and a hilt designed for a fencer's grip, but still long enough that I could use it for other fighting styles as well. I accepted the weapon and pulled it free of its sheath, raising the blade in a salute to the memory of its past wielder. I understood the gesture Varen was trying to make, giving me the sword so it could be used to do some good instead of being passed into the hands of another Vulkar or sold off. With a small smile, I flicked the blade down and sheathed it. I glanced at the sword I'd been using up to this point. As much as I was starting to hate the sight of it, the prototype vibroblade carried too many memories and significance to be left unused. Taking the weapon from where it lay propped against the wall, I turned to Mission and got her attention. The look on her face was priceless when I tossed the vibroblade to her, and she very nearly fumbled it in surprise.

"That's yours now. When we get the time, I'll start teaching you how to use it right. Any objections?"

The Rutian Twi'lek shook her head, and her happy smile admittedly brought my day back up from the pit of despair it had been. With all five of us here in the apartment (Mark was still having some touches added to his paint job), it was a little crowded, but not painfully so. Everyone had a general area that they liked to stay in which contributed greatly to that effort. Varen liked the workbench, Carth had his little section of wall, I usually ended up taking the bed, while Mission and Zaalbar chatted in the corner by the exit. Having 'Big Z' as a member of our team made me want to try and learn Shyriiwook for his sake, but time constraints and a lack of information in the codex made that a bit difficult. In the afternoon, varen left to get in some more practice with the Beks, so he'd be able to survive the races, and I moved to the workbench so I could clean my weapons and armor. It was a habit I needed to get into more regularly, since a little routine maintenance could prevent problems later. It also gave me a chance to get more familiar with my new sword. As good of a weapon it was, I could already see that it needed some work if I wanted it to be a valid successor to the Prototype. I glanced back at Mission, who was still admiring my old blade in awe. I then got back to work, disassembling the hilt of my new sword and laying its parts out on the workbench.

I had my work cut out for me, with all of the puns intended. The Vibrogenerator would have to be switched out for a less-intrusive model, which in turn meant I'd have to change the hilt. The cross-guard was far too wide and needed to be cut down... Probably the only thing that would be salvaged once I was done with it would be the blade itself, which was of high-quality material and woven with cortosis fibers, which meant it could stand up to lightsabers without problem. I wanted to test that for myself, but I wasn't comfortable showing off the saber, since it would likely prompt a load of questions from the new members of our team. Since I lacked the knowledge of how to do make modifications of that level, I was forced to settle for the originally intended cleaning. Boy did this sword need it... I had to take a sonic cleaner to the blade just to get some of the blood off of it. She may have been a skilled fencer, but I doubted the Twi'lek had cleaned the sword once during the time it was in her possession. Day passed into late afternoon, and Varen returned from his swoop riding practice, his hair still looking a little wind-blown.

"Alright. We need to pick who's going to be on the immediate rescue team for Bastila," The Private said, dropping into the workbench's seat, "With the Vulkars running the show, I doubt they'll just let us take her without a fight even if I _do_ win."

"I'm joining you on this one," I spoke up almost immediately, "If they're going to pull something, it gives me a chance to finish what I started."

"Can you guarantee you'll be able to keep your head?" Carth asked, "Your track record hasn't exactly been the best lately."

"I'll be _fine_," I growled, glaring at the pilot. What was it with him today? He was acting like I ran over his puppy or something!

Zaalbar said something, looking directly at me, and Mission winced before translating,

"Big Z's agreeing with Carth. You should sit this one out. If anything goes wrong, you've already had enough trauma lately."

"Yeah, no. I'm going. Three of us started this rescue mission, and those same three should be the ones to _end it_. Considering the crap I've gone through to get this far, there's no way I'm missing the grand finale," I said, looking across the faces of my companions. They were all starting to show that same look that Carth had, and I knew that if I didn't make my own way, they'd pull something underhanded to keep me in the apartment. Venting my frustration with a single hit to the wall, I grabbed my gear and left the apartment as fast as possible, pulling on my mask once more for something dimly resembling anonymity. With luck anyone who saw me would just think I was a diehard fan trying to copy the champion that had come out of seemingly thin air. With this in mind I made my way into the Upper City Cantina, dropping into a chair within range of one of the viewscreens. Listening for a few moments, I caught on that it was Ice and Marl fighting. They were a pretty close match, and would probably give the crowd a good show. I caught the movement of someone taking the other seat at the table I'd commandeered, and found it to be none other than Bendak.

"You can't fool me with that mask, Blue Lion. Not when you're still wearing that coat," The Mandalorian laughed.

"I guess it _is_ a bit distinctive," I admitted with a smile, "Can't seem to keep myself from wearing it, though. How have things been here?"

"Well, Twitch is still in the med center recovering. Whatever you packed into that kick did some damage to his internal organs, and Kolto treatments haven't been effective so far. People are still going crazy about it, trying to figure out how you did that," Bendak gestured at the more common people in the cantina, then let out a sigh, "If it weren't for the Sith..."

"I know, the Death Match. Bendak, even if it were legal, I wouldn't fight you. I respect you too much as a warrior to kill you, and I have things left to do in my life that death would put a serious damper on," I correctly sensed where Bendak was trying to go, and hoped my reasoning would get through to the man, "I've already had to kill a kindred spirit, and I'm _still_ trying to pull my head back together after it."

"So that's where your new sword came from. I get it, kid. Get past the hard life lessons now so you don't have to deal with them later. You still planning on taking down Calo Nord?"

"You heard about that?" I laughed, leaning back in my chair.

"Word travels fast on Taris."

I let the conversation pause for a minute, listening to the results of the duel. Turns out Marl still had quite a bit of fight in him. No surprise, considering he'd been the Champion before Twitch came along.

"Calo and I can't coexist in the same galaxy. He's the worst type of scum I've seen. Still, I know that I'm not ready to face off against him yet. It'll likely take years for me to catch up to that bastard..."

"Just watch yourself out there. The way you've been going, you'll end up with a bounty on your head to match mine," Bendak chuckled again, then stood and gave me a friendly clap on the shoulder before wandering to another part of the cantina. I stayed there most of the night, taking a few short naps when I felt I could do so safely. When morning came, I activated the tracker I'd placed in Varen's backpack. When it finally settled in a location that wasn't anywhere near the Hidden Beks' base, I went on the move. It took a bit to find a safe route down to the swoop racers area, and I calmly settled into the crowd of spectators, catching sight of Carth and Zaalbar on standby near the front. It only took a few minutes for the races to wrap up, and the Duros attendant soon finalized the times. I wasn't surprised that Varen came out on top with a 20 second time for the course, especially once I'd learned the true specs of the prototype accelerator he was using.

Brejik, the leader of the Black Vulkars, was tasked with presenting the prize, and began a long accusing speech targeting Varen and raging at the Duros attendant's adherence to tradition. I worked my way closer and closer to the front of the pack, knowing that if I didn't get my lead now, I'd be trampled when the crowd scattered from the fight. This allowed me a view of the 'prize', a woman of pale complexion, with a surreal beauty about her that made her age impossible to accurately guess. This was Bastila, the reason I was here, the reason I was thrown into a war that had nothing to do with me, the binding cause for our entire team to come together.

And she was dressed in an outfit that would make a nun die from shock.

"-I'll sell this woman on the slave market myself!" Brejik finished his rant, waving a blaster around like a conductor's baton for emphasis.

"I might have something to say about that, Brejik," A calm, smooth voice with just the barest hint of an accent said, coming from the cage where Bastila had been slumped over in a stupor just a moment ago. The Vulkar guard in front of her was brutally pulled back, crashing into the bars, and Bastila opened the cage with his remote, then dealt a killing blow to the gangster and took up his double-bladed vibrosword.

"Impossible! You were bound by a neural inhibitor! There's no way you could have escaped!" Brejik howled.

"Never underestimate the strength of a Jedi's mind. That's a mistake you won't live to regret," Bastila said, twirling her pilfered weapon into a low stance.

"Kill her! Kill the Swoop Rider! Kill them all!" The leader of the Vulkars retreated behind a wall of his gang members, and I pierced through to the combat zone, flipping aside my coat dramatically. Brejik saw the sword at my waist and his eyes went even wider.

"You're not making it out of this alive, Leader of the Black Vulkars!" I dashed forward, my draw arcing across the throats of two Vulkars thanks to my extended reach. The gangsters knew they were outmatched when Carth and Zaalbar joined the fight, providing covering fire. Varen, on the other hand, was right up in the front lines with us, overpowering the gangsters in every blade lock. Bastila was spinning and whirling across the battlefield like a hurricane given flesh. All together, we were unstoppable. Seeing his men fall before him, Brejik tried to run, retreating onto the Swoop Track and randomly firing his blaster at us. I casually advanced on the man, knowing that at the end of the track he'd have nowhere else to go. He was only delaying the inevitable. My companions were calling out, asking questions, but I was too focused on my target to hear them.

"Do you have any idea how many people have suffered because of you? How many innocent lives were taken, or ruined by your actions?" I asked, surprised at how steady my voice was.

"And who are you to judge me, Republic scum!" Brejik swore, sending another bolt at me. I casually leaned to the side and it splashed against the wall.

"I'm not a member of the Republic. I'm just working with them while our interests are aligned. But that doesn't matter to you. If you're religious, I suggest you make peace with your God."

The Vulkar's leader fumbled with a power pack for his blaster, but I stepped forward and knocked the weapon from his hands, then leveled my sword at his chest.

"Every story has a beginning and an ending. Your story ends here, Brejik," I said, then shifted my sword into a double-handed grip and raised it high, prepared for an executioner's stroke. I brought the blade down, only to have it skid and spark against the ignited blade of a yellow lightsaber, a last-ditch attempt by the man to save himself. Letting out a sigh of annoyance, I danced back a few steps and pulled the blaster from my hip, then put a bolt into Brejik's right wrist, causing him to drop the lightsaber and clutch his injury, howling in pain like a beast. He didn't put up any resistance as I struck the finishing blow. I flicked the gore from my blade and sheathed it, then retrieved the lightsaber, which no doubt belonged to Bastila, and returned to where my team was waiting. Mission and Mark had found us, the latter sporting a new medium blue coat of paint, though the outer edges of each armor plate were left silver, making a neat trim. When I replaced my coat (which was getting a bit tattered at the bottom from stray blaster shots and old dueling cuts) I'd likely have it trimmed in silver as well, just because I liked the aesthetic it provided.

"What took you so long?" Bastila snapped, glaring at each of us in turn. That was about enough for me. In response to her ungratefulness, I launched the hilt of Bastila's lightsaber at her head from ten meters, and watched as her eyes rolled up into her head from the impact. When my teammates just looked at me in stunned silence, I shrugged and said,

"I'm sorry, but I am _not_ in the mood to deal with her attitude right now."

* * *

**Ending Notes: Well, Bastila's with the team now, and of course she has to automatically be a bitch to everyone who tried to help her. Yeah, Rain's actions mirror exactly what I wanted to do when I first met her in KOTOR. Anyways, a bit of character development here and there, a possible relationship between Mission and Rain(not likely though), and a new sword. I always felt that there should have been **_**more**_** to Kandon's bodyguard, being the only female member of the Vulkars that wasn't there against her will, so I decided to expand on her character a bit. All of that information is non-canon, as she was never really seen in any EU content. Still, she serves as an example that not everything is as black and white as Rain believed. Anyways, that's about it on this chapter. I was going to say more here, but since the two scenes for this chapter were written over two separate days, much of what I was thinking got lost in the process. Until next time, everyone!**

**Pre-post editing notes: Boy did I have a lot of typos when I first uploaded this chapter. I need to focus on typing correctly and not just quickly.**


	6. 006: Misconceptions

**Disclaimer: Star Wars is owned by Disney. Warning: Mouse Ears Inbound.**

**006: Misconceptions**

Bastila was understandably angry when she finally woke up from her little 'nap', or at least that's what I heard on the other end of the comm. Varen had sent me out on an errands run to Kebla for some additional supplies, mostly so he and Carth could make an attempt at calming down the angry Jedi before it led to more problems for our team. Yeah, that wasn't going too well for the pair of Republic Soldiers. I looked over the array of gadgets Kebla had on display, wondering what I'd done in my past life to deserve this one. Our funding had risen quite well after the Season Opener, mostly thanks to the fact that Varen finally decided to sell off most of the junk he'd been keeping in his backpack. I did run my ideas to upgrade my sword past him, but nothing from the loot fit my specifications, and he didn't have the tools to do any custom fabrication while we were here on Taris. Mission, however... In the short hours we'd spent running around the Upper City, she'd added a bloody _tassel_ to the hilt of the Prototype, and wrapped a ribbon around the sheath. It almost made me reconsider giving her the weapon.

_It's her blade now, and traditionally tassels were added to some swords as a form of distraction for the enemy._

Distraction was right. The damned colors nearly made my eyes bleed. Who the hell matches lime green with dark blue, anyway? I turned my attention back to the gadgets, once again giving thought to the modifications I wanted to add to my armor once we were on a world that hadn't been blockaded by the Sith and had its supply routes cut off. The armor was good, but it was lacking a bit in native defenses. I could benefit greatly from a compact military-grade shield generator installed somewhere on the suit, though the sound of its activation would no doubt give me away to the enemy. Still, it was something for those missions where stealth wasn't a viable option. To improve my unarmed capabilities, I wanted to add claws to the gauntlets and boots, partly to give more explanation for the whole 'Blue Lion' title. Not Vibroblades, though. I had enough good vibrations among the rest of my equipment. If the claws couldn't happen, then I would add ejectable blades to the undersides of my bracers. A good set of eight-inch blades would do well there, and the surprise factor was always an added benefit. For the top of my right gauntlet I was considering a small grenade launcher or missile launcher. I'd heard both were commonly employed by higher-class bounty hunters as a method of crowd control or to take down a particularly tricky target. They also had a habit of including flamethrowers, but I wanted nothing to do with _that_ line of weaponry.

My wrist-comm beeped suddenly, marking the return call from Varen, and I quickly answered to find it was not the Private, but Bastila instead. She looked a lot calmer, which meant that the rest of the group had likely gotten through to her.

"Return to the hideout when you can. We have much to discuss," The Jedi said, then cut the conversation without so much as a farewell. Trying to avoid facepalming myself back into full amnesia, I gathered Mission and Mark, then waved goodbye to Kebla and lead our little band back across the road. Being as much of a gentleman as possible, I carried the bags. That caused a bit of an issue when I attempted to enter the apartment's door code, but my Twi'lek friend just laughed and took care of that bit herself. I wasn't sure what it was about Mission that made me want to be nice to her, but I did, and the results often ended up backfiring on me terribly. As we entered the apartment, probably the first thing I noticed was the lightsaber sitting on the workbench, its single-bladed hilt providing a sharp contrast from Bastila's double-blade. I was lucky I had my mask on, or my glare likely would have destabilized the entire team situation again. I tried to be as casual, walking into the room, but I could feel Bastila's eyes on me, piercing through the thin protection my mask offered. I placed the mechanical supplies Varen had requested by the workbench and did my best to ignore the lightsaber sitting out in the open for all to see.

"Private Varen and Commander Onasi have told me of your involvement in the operation. I must admit that when we recovered you from that mysterious escape pod, I wasn't expecting much out of you. It turns out I was... wrong. Thank you," Bastila said. I gave a polite nod and slipped out of my coat and set my weapons in their usual location.

"Oh come on, Rain. You're just being unnecessarily cruel," Varen commented after a solid minute of silence had passed.

"I'm sorry, but after the Jedi on the Endar Spire... I was kind of expecting her behavior to be the norm. Sacrificial, always willing to do whatever it takes to protect people from the darkness," I admitted, "I guess I didn't account for individual personalities."

"Her name was Atana Rel. After the operation to defeat Revan, she was to be nominated for the rank of Jedi Master," Bastila said sadly, looking over at the lightsabers laying on the workbench, "I wish I could say I knew her well, but before that task from the council we hadn't even met."

"I've done my best to follow her example here on Taris. Protect the weak, and remove the sources of suffering so its spread could be at least slowed a bit. Whenever I feel I'm losing sight of that goal, I pull out the lightsaber and ignite it once," I said, letting my hand brush over the silver metal of the lightsaber, still stained at points with damage and ground-in carbon from the explosions on the Endar Spire, "I think it might be better for the team if I find my own way off of Taris from here."

"What? Why?" Mission protested, "You don't have to leave because of Bastila!"

"If I don't it'll just lead to more problems. This team is holding together with duct tape and chewing gum. One good tug and it'll all come apart. If things go on as they have been, I'm going to be the cause of it. Too many conflicting personalities, conflicting ideals, trust issues... the list of potential triggers is long and varied. Besides, you don't need me. Bastila fills my role for the team quite well, with the added benefits of a laser sword and telekinesis."

"That's not how it is, Rain. Everything you're listing can be worked out," Varen spoke up, "Just give things a chance before you run off on your own."

"Do we even have the time for that? If you don't get off of the planet soon, something _big _is going to happen. The Sith have been looking long enough to do something desperate, and from their methods, I wouldn't put it past them to sacrifice a few lives to see Bastila dead. Her safety is far more important than mine, as strange as it is to admit that," I turned to look at the Jedi we'd gone through hell and back to save, "My only request is that you take Atana's lightsaber back to the Jedi, and personally see to it that her memory is preserved."

"Even finding that her lightsaber was recovered is more than I could hope for," Bastila admitted, "I am... _sorry_ that I did not meet your expectations as a Jedi, and that my presence has caused you to come to this conclusion. Still, I hope you'll at least allow me to attempt to correct the issues between us before you pass judgement."

"Against the red flags that are popping up in the back of my head, alright," I said, which caused everyone in the room save Bastila and myself let out a sigh of relief. Mark just looked at us like he was questioning why he was stuck with such temperamental organics.

"If we're getting off of Taris, we're going to need two things. One: The Sith launch codes," Varen said, taking his position as leader again. I noticed Bastila was frowning at his assertiveness. "Without them, we'll get gunned down by the autoturrets. Second, and probably the most important, we'll need a ship that can actually run the Sith blockade."

"Sounds pretty straightforward. Got any idea how to get the codes?" Carth asked.

"Remember that comm beep a while back? That was someone contacting me with an offer that would fulfill both of those objectives. He even threw in a utility droid that can slice the door to the Sith Base. All we have to do is go pick it up and we can get right to work," Varen said, "The primary team for the base raid is going to be Me, Carth, and Bastila. Rain, Mission, Z, I want you on standby in case something goes wrong. We'll be heading out once night falls. Do as you will, just stay in comm range."

The private dropped into his workbench chair and began tinkering with the parts I'd brought him, muttering softly to himself. He tossed the lightsabers to Bastila, barely checking his aim, and I saw the Jedi staring strangely at the one that belonged to Atana. The team more or less dispersed into their corners, and I flopped down on the bed, absent-mindedly flipping through codex entries. A few minutes passed, and I heard Bastila flip on the holo. A voice that still haunted my nightmares began singing.

"_My Little Kath Hound. My Little Kath Hound..."_

I was across the room and put my fist through it without a second thought, glaring at Carth.

"What did I say about leaving it on that channel?" I snarled at the pilot.

"Well that escalated quickly..." Bastila muttered.

"Hey, what's wrong with My Little Kath Hound? I love that show!" Mission piped up.

"You're a member of the target audience, of course you love it," I replied quickly, "You want to know who _isn't_ in the target audience? I'll give you a hint. He's a republic pilot and is wearing a My Little Kath Hound chrono under his jacket!"

"I am _not_ wearing a My Little Kath Hound chrono," Carth said, pulling up one sleeve of his jacket to show his bare wrist.

"Okay, how about the other arm?" I asked. Carth paused, then revealed the merchandise in shame. It was bright pink, keeping with the theme of one of the main characters on the show, with her face plastered all over the chrono's face and on the band.

"You think you know a person," Varen chuckled.

"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND ORGANICS SOME TIMES," Mark added for effect.

"I'll go out and buy a new holoprojector," Carth sighed, and proceeded to drag his feet all the way to the door and for a good distance down the hall.

"Life Goal: Emasculate Carth in front of everyone, Complete," I laughed, dropping back onto the bed and resuming my Codex browsing. Bastila was staring at me curiously, and I knew a miniature interrogation was going to come next. I flipped off the wrist-comm and sat up, pulling off my mask. All at once the smells of the apartment hit me, and I knew that someone had made nerf steak while I was gone. I glanced at Zaalbar accusingly, and spotted a tiny chunk of it still stuck in the fur around his mouth. I'd have some scalding words for Varen after this. He knew I was sick of the ration bars...

"-about how you came to be in that escape pod."

I tuned into Bastila's question near the end, noticing that the Private was expecting an answer out of this as well.

"I'm not exactly sure. The first thing I can remember was waking up in the Endar Spire's crew quarters," I replied, trying my best to not let the rest of the memories of that little adventure catch up to me, "I get bits and pieces here and there, but I haven't had a single true memory return to me. And it looks like there are some things I do actively know, but I'm physically blocked from speaking about them."

"That sounds like your mind may have been tampered with by a Force User," Bastila murmured, "But only someone with great power can manipulate a being's mind on that scale."

"Yes, and I have the distinct feeling that whoever did this to me is keeping a close eye on the situation. There have been a few signs of their presence, but nothing that can be used to identify them," I said, "Anything else you wanted to know?"

"I do have questions, yes, but not ones that I believe you can answer yet," The Jedi said, "I hope you'll stay with us long enough for these mysteries to be solved."

With that, she moved to a corner of the room and dropped into a meditative posture, closing her eyes. I just shook my head and returned to browsing the codex.

* * *

The remaining members of the team were tense as the primary assault group headed out of the apartment. This was a bigger mission than rescuing Bastila, a direct assault on the enemy's presence on Taris. There was a decent likelihood that they wouldn't be coming back, even with their collective abilities. The seconds ticked by one by one, each seeming to take an eternity, and I went to the workbench with a sigh, using the magnifier function in my mask to identify some of the parts Varen had left. With nothing better to do, I began grinding down my sword's cross-guard after making sure that nothing technological was hiding in the metal. I tested the feel every centimeter taken off, trying to find just the right length for the guard. Even if I was going to switch out the hilt entirely once we were off of Taris, I wanted to get this much done. Something told me I'd need my sword at its full capabilities and usefulness soon. _Really _soon. I also switched out the low-voltage battery for a full-on Diatum energy cell, then tweaked the Vibrogenerator's power output accordingly. I wasn't ashamed to ask for help with that from Mission, since my technical know-how was still lacking. I was learning, though, picking up a bit here and there by watching what Varen was doing.

"Rain... what do you think is going to happen after we make it off of Taris?" Mission asked quietly, a pained look in her eyes telling me that she was already expecting a bad answer.

"Mission, I'm not going to lie to you and say that the group is going to be together forever. Carth and Varen are likely going to be called back to the front lines of the war. Bastila's going to go back to the Jedi and... do Jedi things," I answered, fumbling a bit with the proper role of a Jedi in the galaxy. There were supposedly different positions within their order, but Bastila hadn't exactly broadcasted what hers was, and the Codex had been more than a little cryptic. Probably a measure of information filtering so the Sith wouldn't get their hands on the wrong information.

"What are you going to do?" Mission questioned, still looking on the verge of tears.

"First, I'm going to find some honest work, save up the credits to get my own ship. Once I have aforementioned ship, I plan on taking a galaxy-wide tour of all the best sights. You're welcome to join me on that. You too, big guy!" I laughed, looking over my shoulder at the big Wookiee. Zaalbar made what sounded like a happy growl in response, and I turned my attention back to Mission, "Then, once I'm good and ready, I'm going to honor my promise of dueling Calo Nord. But I'm not going to abandon you, Mission. That's a promise, and I don't make promises lightly."

The Twi'lek girl surprised me with a spontaneous hug, which I carefully returned, trying to not seem too quick about it. I suppressed a wince as she snuggled against my chest, closing her eyes. I cast a pleading look to Zaalbar for help, the wookiee gently growled something, and Mission pulled away, blushing in embarassment. Yeah, things were going to get awkward if we stayed together much longer. I promptly excused myself and went to use the refresher more for a hiding place than out of actual need. I didn't like Mission that way, and I knew that even if I tried to start a relationship with her, I'd have to go through Zaalbar. Besides, Mission was a few years younger than me, fourteen if I'd heard her right during one of her chats with the Private. Damn teenage hormones to hell. On top of everything else, what would I do when it came time to go back home? I banged my head against the wall in frustration. Once my outburst was back in control, I retreated back to the main room of the apartment and dropped onto the bed for a short nap, hoping the rest would help me clear my head.

When I awoke, the assault team for the Sith base was back, referring quietly to the others. I noticed a mess of new pieces on the workbench, Varen seeming annoyed at the placement of the tools. All in all the group looked pretty good, even if Bastila had a few scorch marks cut through her orange jumpsuit. I noticed a new astromech droid roaming around the apartment on little treads, speaking with Mark in beeps and bloops.

"Operation was a success, I take it?" I asked, dragging myself out of bed and grabbing one of the ration bars at random. It had a sweet berry flavor to it, which was a welcome change from the ones I'd been getting up until now.

"Yeah, we got the codes. We'll be making the run for our new ship next," Carth confirmed, looking at the Private and our resident Jedi suspiciously, "Unfortunately, they're going with Canderous alone to Davik's estate to pick it up."

"_What_?" I snarled, feeling a wave of fury rise over me, "You made a deal with that Mandalorian bastard?!"

"Rain. I know you don't like it, and I hate having to tell you this, but suck it up. We need Ordo's help to get off of Taris, and that's that," Varen said forcefully, "He may be a bounty hunter, and preyed on the weak. All of the things that seem to get you riled up, but even I can see that he'll be a useful ally. You won't even have to look at him, since you're staying on standby."

"Like hell I am. The Sith are one thing, but I'm not about to let you waltz onto Davik's home turf without some proper backup. No offense, Bastila," I added.

"I found and removed the little tracker you put in my pack. You can't follow me this time," The Private replied, rubbing his eyes, "And no, I won't take Mark either. He'll draw too much attention, or Davik will put a restraining bolt on him..."

"If Ordo knows who you are, then he's likely told Davik as well. You're walking right into a trap," I said, "The second your back is turned, Canderous will put a bolt in it."

"Would you just _not_ argue with me for once? It's been a long night, and I don't have the energy to deal with you right now." Varen had the tone a parent took with an unruly and nagging child, and it hurt like hell to hear him address _me_ with it. Was that all I was to him? An unruly child to babysit? Trying to keep something dimly resembling self control, I pulled my armor on and began putting my weapons in their places. With a single statement Varen had shattered the dim peace we had established earlier in the day. It was a betrayal that cut me to the depths of my soul. A lot of things were starting to make sense, and it was becoming quite clear that Varen only put up with me because he felt some sort of obligation after what happened on the Endar Spire. My entire view of the man was shattered.

"Where do you think you're going?" Varen asked, using the same exasperated tone. I lost control, and my fist launched of its own accord into the Republic Soldier's face. His entire body locked up, and a pulsing lion head seal was hovering an inch over the point of impact.

"When I manage to get a ship of my own... I'll find a way to contact you," I said, looking at the fearful face of the young Twi'lek. Of the entire team, she and Zaalbar had been the only two that hadn't found a way to piss me off. Now came the hard part.

"Mark, transfer full ownership to Mission. Add Varen to a blacklist of people not allowed to modify any of your parts or programming. Set the blacklist in higher precedence compared to the administrative access list, just to be safe. Lock that blacklist down so entries can only be removed by me," I gave out the orders to the Sentinel droid rapidly, moving towards the apartment door as I did, "Sorry it has to be this way, but I don't like being seen as a 'burden'."

"Nobody sees you that way. You're overreacting!" Carth said, looking nervously between Varen's paralyzed form and me.

"Oh don't give me that. You were going to end up dropping us off on some other backwater world the second the Republic called." The pilot flinched, but made no move to deny it.

"ORDERS... ACKNOWLEDGED..." Mark said with what sounded like a tone of sadness in his synthetic voice, "BE SAFE, RAIN."

"Don't worry about me, Mark. Just keep Mission safe," I said to the droid, slapping the door controls, "Oh, and Varen, if you even remotely consider abandoning them, you'll put yourself squarely on my 'shoot on sight' list. Interesting bit, the only other person occupying that is Darth Malak. Either way, I hope you enjoy your black eye and concussion."

I snapped my fingers and walked out of the apartment, hearing the chaos left behind by the Private's spontaneous flight into the refresher courtesy of the kinetic seal. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit good to be on my own again. I was never one to really rely on others before, and kept my list of friends short. I gave Larrim a quick wave on my way out of the apartment complex, laughing at the merchant's confused expression. I may have been lengthening the time for my own escape from Taris, but damn did it feel good to be fully on my own, no longer held down by the opinions of a forced father figure. I laughed as I realized that I'd managed to take all of the team's credits with me by mistake. The chips were still in one of the utility pockets on my belt, left there after the shopping trip earlier in the day.

Their presence only made my grin wider.

I dropped by the cantina out of habit, giving Bendak a friendly nod while I was in the process of finding an empty table to sit at. I wondered if the Mandalorian ever slept, no matter what crazy time I showed up, he was always up and about with the same energy. It was too late...or _early_ rather, since I discovered it was well past midnight, for any duels to be running. Instead I found myself listening to the local news feed.

"_An attack on the Sith Military base has left most of the occupying military force in shambles, and the Sith Governor assigned to Taris dead. It is unknown who launched the attack, or how they entered the base, but signs are pointing to a small group of Republic soldiers -likely survivors from the crash of the Republic Hammerhead-class cruiser Endar Spire- being behind it. More on the situation as new evidence is revealed._"

"You have anything to do with that?" Bendak asked, taking the seat next to me as he usually did.

"Not directly, no. I wasn't on the assault team. Doesn't matter anyway, I broke off from them after a few painful revelations," I answered, not at all surprised by his sudden appearance at just the right time.

"About time if you ask me. You can stand on your own two legs," Bendak chuckled, "Sith up above aren't going to be happy. If they find out you were even remotely connected to the Republic. Well, it won't be pretty, I'll tell you that much."

"Yeah, well, I'm almost in the mood for a bloodbath, aren't you?"

"Would be a good break from the monotony," Bendak admitted, "If they do show up for you, I may just have to persuade Ajuur to shut off the auto-turrets."

He tapped the modified Mandalorian blaster on his hip, and I knew that's _exactly_ what he'd do if the Sith tried to arrest me.

"You sure you can still handle the kick on that blaster, old man?" I joked, watching the holofeed again.

"I'm not _that_ old!" Bendak laughed, "And I can still handle the old missus like my days as a Field Marshal."

"Oh yeah, Mandalorian Wars, right? That why you have a bounty on your head?"

"No, accidentally shot some nobleman's daughter. He overreacted and here I am," Bendak sighed wistfully, "I do miss the good old days as a bounty hunter, though. Only place outside of the ring that I could get some real action. Wouldn't put it past the Republic to try and toss me in some prison for war crimes if they ever took back the planet."

"Yeesh. Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

Bendak and I talked for hours, well into the late morning. The former Neo-Crusader was supportive of my decisions, encouraging me to stay strong and stand tall in the face of adversity. Despite his love of bloodshed and battle, Bendak was a good man, wise from experience and willing to share that wisdom so long as he wasn't being idolized. We must have gone through every topic that came to mind. Politics, philosophy... apparently being stuck in a cantina for a few years gave you a _lot_ of time to think. We respected each others' views, even when they conflicted.

_Bendak acts more like a proper father than Varen ever did. Supportive, but not restricting, not commanding. He's willing to let you make your own mistakes, and gently asks "What did we learn?" when you do._

That little voice was right for once. Bendak _did_ act fatherly, even if he'd never admit to it under pain of death. I chuckled at the thought, then flinched as the entire cantina shook violently as though something had made impact nearby.

"_People of Taris, I'm here to bring you the last news feed you will ever see from this station. The Sith have begun bombarding the planet. I repeat, the Sith have begun bombarding the planet. Hug your loved ones close, because the end of the world as we know it is here..."_

* * *

Everything had gone so wrong, so fast. Between the innocent lives being taken by the hundreds each second, the flying permacrete debris, and the shaking of an entire dying planet, there was nothing anyone could do. All of the members of the dueling ring stood out in force, maintaining order, comforting the people in their last moments. At times like these people needed their heroes, and I wasn't going to let them down. I stood at the eye of the storm, glaring up at the Sith fleet in orbit, my blue coat fluttering in the winds of destruction. Malak had gotten desperate enough that he was destroying Taris just to be certain Bastila was dead. It was by pure luck that the walkway of the Upper City hadn't given out yet. The turbolaser blasts were hitting all around us, obliterating Zelka's hospital and the Cantina. Mission, Zaalbar, the little Astromech, Mark, and Carth all poured out of the Apartment complex only seconds before it was cleaved in half by a bolt, lugging with them all of the supplies they could. I ignored them and continued to play the part of the Blue Lion, the Taris Dueling Champion, the one who had cut down the Black Vulkar's leader. I stood proudly at the edge of the street, one hand on the sheath of my sword. Bendak stood at my side in silence. We both knew that it was only a matter of time before one of the bolts hit a support, and sent all of us to our deaths.

"Where the hell are you, Varen?" I hissed under my breath, scanning the skies for any sign of a ship. As if called my my voice, a silver and brown disc-shaped freighter tore across the sky, dodging what turbolaser blasts it could. The ship lowered slowly towards the platform, and I knew it was only there to pick up Carth, really. Mission, Zaalbar and the droids were just tagging along to them, useful for the first run they'd met on, and put on 'standby' for all eternity after that. I stared up at the cockpit defiantly as the boarding ramp lowered, not surprised that it only stayed down long enough for those five passengers to get on before the ramp retracted. The ship hovered for a moment, and my comm gave the distinct beep of an incoming call. I pushed the button and rerouted the audio feet to my mask's display, not wanting to give my former team second thoughts by showing them any of the people they'd be leaving behind.

"Rain, please, get on the ship," Varen sighed, "You don't have to throw your life away over our disagreement."

"I'm going to protect these people as long as I can," I replied fiercely, "Tell me where you're going to be, just on the slim chance I survive."

Varen was silent for a moment before saying, "Dantooine."

"Alright. Now get out of here and for the love of all things holy, _don't look back_."

The freighter slowly turned around, and I heard the sound of Mission's voice shouting unintelligibly in the background of the call. Then... its sublight engines kicked into high gear and the ship shot away, followed by the screams and cries of those left behind. I cut the now dead call and looked to Bendak, who just shook his head. The bombardment continued for several more minutes and I began to wonder if the Sith were just terrible shots or were _intentionally_ avoiding our platform. If it was the latter option, I had a very bad feeling about what would happen when they came to inspect their handiwork. At last, a single turbolaser blast shot towards our location and everyone braced for the worst. The red bolt sheared through the front support pillar, tipping the entire platform violently. Being right at the front, I was thrown into a freefall.

Okay, so step one was not to panic. Step two was to avoid pissing myself. Step three... step three was to _not. Bloody. Die._ I hit terminal velocity rather quickly, but if I didn't do something drastic I'd just end up going _squish_ at the mess of debris that now formed the Under City. I fought the wind and managed to get my sword from its sheath, then turned and rammed it into the unharmed lower sections of the durasteel _wall_ nearby, and was rewarded by having my arm nearly torn out of its socket by the sudden change in speed. The Vibrogenerator in my sword was working overtime, trying to accommodate for the material it was cutting through. Good news was that I was slowing down, and more good news was that the rubble that had gone before me had just hit the bottom to kick up a massive cloud of dust. I saw Bendak's gold form shoot past me like a bullet, until at last the man shot a grappling hook from his left bracer, which latched onto the pillar further down and allowed the man to control his fall as well. The others... the civilians, Gerlon Ice and Marl, Kebla and Zelka... they weren't so lucky.

Once I finally made it to the bottom I just sat there, trying my best to block out the screams of the dying and dead, trying to keep their faces from being added to my list. If I had the entirety of Taris added to that list I'd break. My arm was sore but not injured as far as I could tell. My mask's filters were the only thing keeping me from choking on all of the permacrete dust and ionized durasteel.

"You alright, Blue Lion?" Bendak asked, detaching his cable and landing next to me.

"Shaken, not stirred," I answered, "I'm not going to be pulling a stunt like _that_ again for a while."

"Well, you won't have to. Looks like nothing over two meters ended up standing. Turbolasers have stopped firing, so we should be in the clear once the dust settles."

I detected a small pun in that, but was too tired to call the Mandalorian on it. Instead I just sat against the pillar, wondering how long it would take for any sort of aid to reach us. That was assuming the Sith Fleet had left Taris' orbit. Grumbling softly to myself, I pulled my sword from the wall and checked its condition, scanning it with my mask and cross-referencing the data with my wrist-comm's previous entries. Whoever had forged the blade was a master craftsman for it to have survived such stress unharmed. I sheathed the sword soon after with a newfound appreciation for it.

"How many power packs do you have on you?" I asked, knowing that energy consumption was going to be a big problem in post-apocalypse Taris.

"I've got enough to last a week on an all-out battlefield. Old habits die hard. How about you?"

"I'm good, and I can turn the energy output back down on my sword without too much trouble if I need to."

"Alright. Let's let things settle down a bit more before we risk moving. Who knows what could have survived down here," Bendak said, "It's going to keep us on our toes, I can guarantee you that much."

I took a short nap to try and get some of my strength back while Bendak stood watch. It wasn't exactly the best sleep of my life, but it got the job done, and I awoke to find the dust had settled in a mottled mix of gray and brown, coating everything in sight up to inches of thickness like snow. It gave me one more reason to want Malak dead, witnessing and _experiencing_ the destruction he'd caused first hand. It was sickening that he'd resort to such methods just for Bastila, especially when a good number of his own troops were in other sectors on Taris.

"Good, you're up," Bendak said, crouching next to me a moment later, "I did some short-range scouting while you were out of it. I found a place we can stay. It isn't pretty, but it'll serve."

"That's more than I was hoping for. Lead the way." I struggled to my feet and followed Bendak across the wreckage to a little cave formed by a few slabs of permacrete that had fallen at odd angles. Bendak had set down a few loose durasteel plates to serve for a more proper floor, and moved crates and plasteel cylinders to store what supplies we would eventually find. Like he said, it wasn't pretty, but at least it wasn't a hole in the ground. The first thing I did in our humble abode was clear as much dust from the surrounding area and myself as possible, going so far as to remove my coat and shake it out. I had no doubt I'd get a lot more of the stuff on me by the time all was said and done, but at least I'd prevent it from accumulating any further than it already had.

We established a schedule from there, we'd take a six hour rest, then head out and hunt for supplies in a search grid for six hours. It was tiring work, and our success was limited by a lack of digging tools, but occasionally a naturally formed pathway would present itself and allow us to go down into the ruins of a society that was booming with life not so long ago. We found (much to my mixed feelings) a few boxes of ration bars, but a lack of fresh water would nullify their effectiveness. We kept up our searches for what felt like an eternity, just the two of us on a dead world.

* * *

**Ending Notes: Okay, I seriously overdramatized some things here. I know that, and I'm sorry. Bendak's also another one of those characters that wasn't given nearly as much effort as he should have been, considering how much of a badass he was in the dueling ring. Oh, and the name for the Jedi aboard the Endar Spire is non-canon, since she was never named in any official sources. I kept out the Sith base to show what life was like for the party members left behind, and I cut out Davik's estate for the simple fact that Rain would not have been able to handle meeting Davik or Canderous without causing some trouble. I was originally thinking of having him and Calo meet again in the Ebon Hawk's hangar, only to break off and not actually fight, but this method was much easier to work with. I know it all feels rushed, but Taris is just one of those worlds you kind of get sick of. God knows I was sick of it three chapters ago...**

**The official name for Rain's power is the Kinetic Seal. It uses all kinetic energy from both the target and Rain, and compresses it back into potential energy at the point of impact, forming the seal. Then, when the seal is activated, all of that energy effectively explodes on the target, usually sending them flying. Rain still isn't quite up to the point of consciously using the Kinetic Seal, but he's starting to get there. Until next time, everyone!**


	7. 007: Awaken

**Disclaimer: Star Wars is still owned by Disney. That isn't likely going to change now that they have it in their Force Grip.**

**007: Awaken**

The first thing I noticed had to be the soft bed underneath my back. After what felt like an eternity of sleeping on the durasteel plating with just my coat to serve as any sort of padding, any sort of proper comfort was alien to me. Bendak had likely cracked open the remains of one of the apartment buildings. I'd have to thank him once I got up, but for now, I was content to sleep in as long as possible. When I did wake again, a number of voices were speaking, but I couldn't really understand them around my constant tiredness. I let myself drift back off into one of the few peaceful dreams I was allowed, but I'd be damned if I could actually remember it once I came to.

My eyes finally opened, and for a moment I just stared up at the white metal ceiling. There was nothing between me and the ceiling, just clean, clear air, free of permacrete debris or ashes. It was at that same moment that I noticed my HUD wasn't active, or more accurately: that my mask was off. No wonder I'd been able to breathe so well. There was no way Bendak could have managed to get me out of the hideout without waking me up fully, which meant that someone had used some sort of knockout gas. It was amazing that anywhere on Taris was still in this good a condition, let alone had enough power generators to keep the lights from flickering. I sat up in the bed, not at all surprised to find my weapons and armor gone, then rose to my feet. My limbs were a bit shaky, but I forced myself into a focused state that allowed me to bypass that, then made it to the door and pressed the controls. Outside of the room extended a corridor of brown metal in either direction, with a number of doors evenly spaced on both sides of the hall.

"You should be resting," An unfamiliar voice said. My attention was brought to a human in a brown robe that had been standing just out of my line of sight.

"I bet you'd like that a lot," I snapped, my voice was still mostly a growl, a sideaffect of being forced to breathe Taris' contaminated air whenever I tried to eat or drink anything. "Where are you keeping Bendak?"

"_You want to go back into your room and get some sleep_," The man said, waving his hand in an odd gesture I didn't recognize. I felt a slight tickling at the back of my mind, saying that it was a good idea, since I was barely standing. I shrugged it off and gave the robed human an annoyed look.

"Rain!" Varen's voice called from down the hall. The Private was dressed in the same cut and color of robe as the man I'd been talking to, the silver and black hilt of a lightsaber at his waist. Wait, why did _Varen_ have a lightsaber? He ran down the hall to us with a measure of speed and urgency, then tried his best to gently push me back into the room and back in the bed with the help of the other brown-robed man. The former grabbed a small injector from a medical kit that I hadn't noticed before, then promptly rammed it into my neck. I was quickly plunged into the blackness of a dreamless sleep, though for a few seconds I could still hear the dim noise of the two men talking. Questions swam through my incoherent but still semi-conscious mind. What the hell was Varen doing back on Taris? If he was here, had he dragged Mission along for the ride? That possibility alone made me want to break out of the sleep and shake the Private down for answers. No, I made myself wait it out, trying to gather my strength so that when I woke up, I wouldn't need to drop into a focus state, and I wouldn't be pushed around again. There were more than a few times where I was close to regaining full consciousness, only to be shoved back down into the darkness. It only took one or two times of this for me to realize that they were re-injecting me to keep me asleep as long as possible. Hopefully Bendak was having better luck than me. If he hadn't already broken out, he was likely going to be undergoing the same treatment that I was soon.

Whoever had captured us had a uniform, they had purpose, and they had supplies. Why they were bothering to keep us alive was beyond me. Unless if they were slavers, come to pick up what survivors they could find without fear of repercussions from either of the two factions warring, and sell them to the highest bidder on some Outer Rim world where we wouldn't be missed. Varen must have gone undercover to try and save me, and likely put the rest of the team in danger to do it. No, that made no sense, since he'd called my name upon seeing me, and the guard hadn't responded in any way. Just what the hell was going on? There's no way the Republic had responded so quickly, not when the Sith would be watching the system like a hawk.

"You're confused. Understandable, considering the trauma you've suffered over the last two weeks," A man's voice cut into my thoughts. My eyes snapped open and locked onto a wrinkled, balding man clad in a medium-red robe of the same cut as the ones Varen and the guard had been wearing. If I had to guess, it indicated a higher rank in whatever organization this was. It didn't take me long to notice the stun cuffs keeping my right arm locked to the lower railing on the bed.

"Those are for formality only. Don't want you running off and hurting yourself while your head's still a mess."

Was he inside my mind, analyzing my thoughts and emotions as I was experiencing them? If this was a Dark Jedi, then I was multiples of screwed. The Republic wouldn't have had time to look for survivors, but the Sith did, considering they had nearly their whole fleet in orbit for the bombardment. Letting out a sigh, the man rose to his feet and pulled the lightsaber from his belt, igniting it to produce a brilliant green blade.

"See, it isn't a red blade."

"All that proves is that you really aren't good with color matching," I retorted. I heard a muffled laugh from the hall, which indicated that even if I could somehow get past this man, there were still other beings lying in wait. It also showed that someone in the organization had a sense of humor. My interrogator extinguished his lightsaber and dropped back into his chair, the seemingly permanent scowl on his face deepening. He was starting to remind me of that overly critical uncle that nobody could ever please. Every family had one somewhere in their tree.

"Your mind just loves to go off on wild little trips when you think you can get away with it," The interrogator stated. Great, he _was_ in my mind. Time to execute Plan B. Instantly I conjured every image, sound and aspect of My Little Kath Hound to mind, forced upon me thanks to some cruel jokes by Carth during our time in the apartment. I kept it at the front, forming a shield of girly cuteness that this Interrogator couldn't hope to pierce. The theme song played on a near-infinite loop in my brain, and the man's concentration increased. I could feel the mental probe pushing and prodding the barrier of cartoonified canines, looking for a weak point. When he thought he'd found one, I launched an image of the Matriarch of the Kath Hounds at him, known simply as Princess Snuggles. The mental attack ceased, and the man's eyes rolled up in his head, his body slumping in the chair. Now there was just the matter of these binders... I rolled out of the bed and twisted my wrist inside the slightly loose cuff, then slid the other cuff across the bed's railing and grabbed my Interrogator's lightsaber off of his belt. I activated the energy blade and sliced through the chain between the two cuffs, just as the guard opened the door, armed with a yellow lightsaber of his own. I took two quick steps forward, forcing the hesitant saber-wielder to make an equal number back. I circled to the right, then broke the engagement, pushing my body to its speed limits and extinguishing the lightsaber to reduce the chances of dismembering myself. I rounded a corner and came out into a round intersection, the center containing a small flower garden and a pair of bulbous white trees. A small glance upwards revealed a blue sky, but it was likely just a projected image.

I glanced left and right, trying to figure out which way was the easier exit, only to be approached by Varen and Bastila. The former looked concerned, while the latter had her lightsaber in hand, making clear her opinions on the matter. I lit the stolen lightsaber and assumed my opening stance, noting the fake look of suprise in the eyes of my former companions.

"Rain, this isn't what you think," Varen said, taking a step towards me. A vicious slash in his direction forced the man to retreat several steps, and Bastila ignited a single end of her lightsaber, taking it in a high two-handed grip. The other robed people were quickly rushed to the hallways around the room to stand guard, and prevent my escape. Any sane person would just surrender against an entire _cult_ of lightsaber packing beings, but I never claimed to be sane. Bastila's nature had always seemed a bit too snobby to be a Jedi, anyways. Likely used a mind-altering power to rope Varen along, which would mean I'd have to deal with my other former companions soon as well.

"Don't hurt him, Bastila. He still thinks he's on Taris."

"He attacked Master Vrook and took his lightsaber. I believe that's more than enough evidence against this boy," Bastila replied, leading in with a powerful overhand chop. Instinct triggered, and I stepped forward under the attack, using the lightsaber's cutting power to shear off the blade emitter, causing that end to short out before it could make contact. The woman's eyes narrowed and she thrust out her hand, throwing me back with telekinetic force. Black dots swam before my eyes, and my spine had likely suffered some mild damage that was going to hurt like a mofo in the morning. My eyes cleared just in time to see Bastila standing over me, the only working blade of her lightsaber lit and hovering at my throat. To think, I'd gone through hell just to save this woman, and here she was about to execute me. I'd wasted weeks of my life on Taris taking part in her rescue mission, only to find out _now_ that she was part of some crazy cult. Burning wrath boiled in my veins, and I let out a vengeful roar with enough force that it made Bastila stumble back. That was all I needed to get back up. Bastila's face creased in anger and she lashed out at me, but I blocked her at the wrist and dealt an open-palmed strike to the center of her chest, forcing her back even further.

"What... what _are_ you?" Bastila hissed through clenched teeth, "It's impossible for a non Force Sensitive to defeat a Jedi in direct combat!"

"I don't need mystical powers to see the flaws in your technique," I replied.

"A lesson for us all, this is," A voice with an odd accent said. I looked to its owner and found a short, wrinkled green alien with long pointed ears slowly moving through the line of cultists at the far side of the crossing, heavily reliant on his walking stick. "Conquer overconfidence and arrogance, you must. To use the Force makes us not Invincible. To use the Force makes us not greater than others. Meditate on this."

By the time he'd finished his speech, the little alien was at Bastila's side, looking at me with a small smile.

"Come, young warrior. Much to discuss, we have."

* * *

After a much calmer conversation with the little alien, also known as Jedi Master Vandar Tokare, I slumped in the chair trying to process everything that had been told to me. First, and most importantly, I was off Taris. Carth had apparently called in some favors to get a rescue operation mounted within two weeks of their arrival on Dantooine. While all of _that_ was going on, it turned out that Varen was Force Sensitive, and due to his 'Force Bond' with Bastila, was put into training with the Jedi order to develop his talents. I'd been in a miniature coma a month after that, and they kept me asleep for a few days longer so I could properly regain my strength and prepare for my awakening. Apparently the Republic hadn't been able to find Bendak either, though his blaster was found with my belongings. I could only assume the worst, since the proud Mandalorian would never willingly give up the weapon. The Jedi Healers responsible for watching over me had suppressed my memories of post-bombardment Taris as best they could, and the answer to Bendak's fate was likely in there was well. I'd escaped Taris. I wasn't going back in, not even mentally.

"Carth must have convinced the Republic that I could be a help to the war effort. They wouldn't have diverted a ship to pick me up otherwise," I sighed, taking a sip of the tea Master Vandar had provided. Atfer living off of barely purified water and ration bars, it was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted.

"Planning to assist the Republic already, were you not?" Vandar made a small, coughing laugh. "Going to defeat Malak all by yourself, hmm?"

"Varen told you about that," I groaned, punctuating it with a facepalm. "I've realized that there's a long line ahead of me for taking a shot at the Sith leader. If my number does finally come up and I haven't died from idealistic stupidity, be sure to call me."

"I'm sorry to say that isn't an option," A new voice said. A bald, dark-skinned man joined us, taking one of the remaining chairs around the table. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip, green eyes watching my every move carefully. If I had to take a guess, he was gauging my reactions to see whether or not I'd get violent again.

"So the Republic is going to claim that I have a debt to them, and then throw me to the frontlines to fight their war," I stated, "Is there even a government in existence that doesn't consist of manipulative bastards?"

"Speak as though you are not a citizen of the Republic, you do," Vandar added with a knowing smile.

"If your healers were inside my mind, then you should already know why," I growled, "Unfortunately whoever messed with my mind _before_ your people put a block in there to keep me from saying it outright."

"Then it is best that we keep it that way," The human Jedi Master admitted, "However, there is still the matter of what you will do now."

"Well first I'm going to have another cup of this excellent tea. Then, I'm going to find my gear. After that, if I haven't started another brawl, I'll likely do some exploring, get some fresh air... whatever I feel like doing," I replied, then started the first step of that plan.

"So you're content to let innocent people die while you satisfy your selfish impulses?"

"If it means the people who are _supposed_ to be protecting them finally get off their rears, then yes," I answered calmly, setting my drained cup on the table once more and folding my hands as I leaned back in the chair. I bet they hadn't expected my idealism to fade so easily after Taris, which was why they were still trying to appeal to it. Even if I couldn't directly remember it, two weeks was more than enough to have an impact on my personality.

"Taris had a more profound effect on you than we'd imagined," The Human Jedi murmured, "Just suppressing the memories won't remove the entirety of their effect on you."

"Don't even think about entering my mind, or you'll receive the same treatment the last Jedi did," I stated, rising to my feet, "Thank you for the tea. It was some of the best I've had."

Without further delay I left the room and made my way back out into the main crossroads of the Dantooine Jedi Enclave, noting more than a few sets of eyes on me. I was taking some risky gambles, challenging some of the greatest powers in the known universe. Blind luck had brought me this far, but I had a feeling that luck was running out. I'd have to make my next moves carefully. My eyes caught a glimpse of Carth's flight jacket, and I soon encountered the man properly.

"Good to see you're up and not trying to rip anyone's head off," The pilot chuckled, "I tried to get a ship sent to Taris much faster, but.."

"Don't worry about it Carth. Do you have any idea where my stuff is?" I asked, keeping the mixture of emotions I was feeling at seeing the man again out of my voice.

"Oh, yeah, we've got it on the _Ebon Hawk. _T3 took care of the repairs himself," Carth answered quickly, then lead me out to the public docking bay, where the ship Varen had flown away in was resting, its loading ramp open.

"T3... the little Astromech you got for the Sith Base, right?"

"Yeah. Do you... want to come in and say hello to everyone? Or should I just grab everything and meet you back out here?"

"I'm not ready for a big emotional reunion just yet," I chuckled, "Once Mission finds out I'm up she'll come at me like a heat-seeking missile, and I'm not sure I'd survive the impact."

"Right, I don't blame you. Back in a bit, Rain."

Carth vanished up the ramp into the Ebon hawk, and I made my way over to one of the decorative grassy patches on the landing zone to sit and wait. A few Jedi and non-Jedi came and went. Apparently in the landing zone there were a few business presences permitted by the Order, most likely due to their assistance in providing the Jedi with certain services that the planet lacked. I'd be visiting them for some supplies soon, provided all of my credits hadn't been stolen or spent during my coma. After that, what would I do? Well, obviously I'd explore Dantooine a bit. If the Jedi had settled here willingly, it couldn't be all that bad a place to live. The real question I was forced to ask myself beyond that was, _What are you going to do to save the Galaxy?_

It was a silly question, all in all, something produced by the remaining bit of my childhood. I couldn't save this galaxy, not when I'd likely end up maimed or killed by the first Dark Jedi I was forced to fight alone. I had no edge on their abilities in this 'Force' that the Jedi kept referring to. Especially on the telepathic aspects. If one Jedi Healer could suppress memories, then a Dark Jedi could easily just break my mind and leave me at his mercy, or even worse rewrite my memories and personality to turn me on my former allies. A fate worse than death...

Carth returned soon after with my weapons stacked on top of the original crate my armor came in. It had probably been used for storage during their escape from the apartments...

"Everything should be there. Your stealth field was beyond repair, though, and nobody around here has one in stock," The pilot said, setting down my possessions in front of me, "Replaced it with a decent energy shield. Not quite military-grade, but it should hold up against a few shots. Rain, are you sure you just want to leave? I mean, I know the Jedi did something to help stop your memories of... what happened, but even I can see that you aren't okay right now."

"Varen constantly insisted that I should find something to do with my life after we got off of Taris. It's time I made myself a little more self-reliant, and this is one of the steps I have to take," I answered softly, brushing my hand over the grip of Bendak's blaster, "Comm'll be open if something big comes up that two Jedi can't handle."

"Right, got it. Good luck," Carth gave me a quick handshake, then retreated back up the ramp of the Endar Spire. Still dressed in the plain jumpsuit the Jedi had provided, I proceeded back through the Enclave and through the long tunnel that lead outside, only to be stopped by a protocol droid. I waited for it to scan my identity and match it against its database.

"Identity confirmed. You are allowed to freely enter and exit the Jedi Enclave," The Droid said, disengaging the lock on the door behind it. I went through and soon found myself staring at a small paradise.

Beyond the white courtyard and walkways stretched green plains as far as the eye could see, with gentle sloping hills and sparse trees. I took in a breath of full, fresh air and immediately felt more at peace than I had in a long time. This was as close to being _home_ as I would ever feel in this galaxy, and even if I one day bought a ship and visited other places, I'd be sure to keep a property on Dantooine that I could always return to. I passed Jedi and common folk alike on my way out to the plains, but I knew that before I could go much farther I'd need to put my armor on. Since I currently had no place to call my own, I'd be roughing it. The planet may have been a paradise, but that didn't mean the natural predators wouldn't turn me into a tasty snack if I didn't protect myself.

I found a secluded spot about a mile from the Enclave and set down the armor box, flipping open the clasps and pushing up the lid. Bright and clean on the top was my coat, the cuts and damage it had suffered repaired in full. The patch jobs were done so well it was impossible to say whether this was actually my coat, or just a clever reproduction. I removed the folded garment and noted immediately that the suit had been repainted. Gone was the matte dark blue of old, replaced with shining silver trimmed around the edges in a thin accent line of pale blue-gray. Since I was never much for stealth anyways, not being stuck to dark, dull colors was a welcome change. Sadly the paint job on the mask wasn't as creative as I was hoping for. The standard trimming from the rest of the armor was there, extended to wrap around the replacement blue optic lenses and small red sensor node, as well as the three vertical slits that served for access to its breath filter. Beyond that, the only marking on the mask was a broad blue stripe running down the center, in the same shade as my coat. They must not have had any idea of what I would have liked on it, hence the plain look. Even having the armor cleaned was more than I would have asked for.

Once I was back in my armor, it didn't take long for me to note that my Mask's internal components had been completely changed out, resulting in a much more breathable filter and a much more useful Heads Up Display that was synched to my Wrist-Comm, allowing me to take any calls or view the Codex directly in front of my eyes whenever I wanted to. Once I was used to the new setup and had the display customized as I wished, I began placing my weapons. My sword attached at the right hip on my energy shield belt, the vibroknife clipped on the back for a left-handed reverse grip draw. My SSK-00 went back in its holster directly on my armor, and Bendak's blaster took up its new home on my previously unused left hip holster. I'd likely never use the weapon unless if I absolutely had to, but if I did I'd need my main hand to withstand its kick. I'd seen Bendak fire it on several occasions, and the modified Mandalorian Heavy Pistol had the recoil of a compact rocket launcher on a _good_ day. I sorted the remainder of the supplies Carth had slipped in with my gear, mostly power cells, and thankfully my Credits in full. I'd be sure to drop the case back off by the _Ebon Hawk_ once night fell. They needed it more than I did, and it wouldn't be right to just leave it lying in the middle of nowhere.

Lugging the armor case along for now, I set out to explore the plains of Dantooine, still playing with the new features of my mask as I went.

* * *

I'd stumbled upon something truly incredible.

Out of sheer curiosity I'd followed the passages of a cave under a hill, and at the end of one path was a small grotto glowing under the light of more than a few natural crystal formations. They came in several colors, blue, green, yellow, I even saw a few smaller orange clusters. The entire area was filled with a raw, natural energy contained within the crystals, pulsing with the planet's heartbeat. I noted the presence of a few egg sacs in the cave, most likely from the arachnids I'd fought on my way in, but they didn't seem to be in danger of hatching any time soon, so I ignored them and stepped further into the grotto.

Two weeks had passed since leaving the Jedi enclave, and I'd thought I'd exhausted every possible place to explore within a twenty mile radius. I actually found the cave's entrance by accident on my way back to the white tree that I had taken to sleeping under each night, and my curiosity forced me to investigate. From the brief calls I kept up with Carth, Varen's progress as a Jedi was excelling at a rate that even the Masters were calling prodigous. He was supposed to be making his lightsaber soon, too, which meant that he'd probably be sent on missions for the Order not long after.

"So, you're the boy the Jedi were so keen to rescue," A harsh voice filtered through a Mandalorian helmet echoed in the tunnel behind me. I'd learned to recognize the sound after listening to Bendak for so many hours, and the fact that it wasn't him only implied that this was a Mandalorian Raider.

"I didn't ask them to, quite honestly," I replied, turning to face the red-armored remnant of the last war. I noted that he had a pair of lightsabers on his belt, trophies from a pair of succesful kills. At his other hip was a well-kept vibrosword that seemed fairly standard issue among most militaries, and from how the Mandalorian stood, it was clear that was his weapon of choice. I calmly, slowly pulled Bendak's blaster and held it up so the Raider could see its profile.

"Pretty nice replica, kid. I'm not impressed," The former Rally Master chuckled dryly.

"It's not at all a fake. This Blaster belonged to Gorse Bendak, one of your Field Marshals during the war. He was my mentor during my time on Taris," I replied, spinning the blaster on one finger and slipping it back into the holster, "Whatever you may think, I hold no allegiances to the Jedi."

"Don't make this difficult," The Raider said, drawing his vibrosword, "Killing you is only a shot at the Jedi, nothing personal."

"Bendak helped me survive after Taris had fallen. Killing me would be disobeying a Field Marshal's orders. Have you lost that much of your honor, Rally Master?" I replied, flipping back the tail of my coat in case he decided to attack anyways.

"I don't need lectures about honor from a _child_!" The Mandalorian snapped angrily, charging at me. His battle cry met my wild roar, both amplified to deafening volumes by the cave's acoustics. Our blades met in one initial clash, and the Mandalorian tried to push against my weapon to overpower me by brute force, a tactic I'd seen more than a few warriors try to use in my time on Taris. It may have looked 'cool' to some, and helped some men fulfill the urges of their testosterone, but in reality it left a million openings that could be exploited. I let the Raider push my blade to the ground, then promptly shifted its angle and stepped _past_ the man, dealing a vicious gash in his armor that would have been fatal had he not turned with the cut. I rolled away from a strike directed at my back and rose to my feet again, turning to face my opponent and leveling my sword at his chest.

"You should probably also know that I was the dueling champion on Taris before its fall. Youngest on record too," I informed him, "This was a poorly-chosen battle, and neither of us should have to die for it. Just walk away, Rally Master, and find safer prey."

My words had the exact opposite effect I'd desired, and as the Mandalorian rushed me with the ferocity of a wild beast, I ran him through, twisted my sword in his stomach, and slashed it out in a single fluid motion. As he fell dead, I tore the lightsabers from his belt and turned away, flicking the blood from my blade and sheathing it. Failure to see reason was one of the largest causes of violence known to man. I had hoped to avoid a pointless confrontation with one of Bendak's old comrades, but this warrior was so dedicated to his actions against the Jedi that even at my best I likely couldn't have stopped him from attacking me. Letting out a growl of disgust, I shifted the larger of the two lightsabers I'd claimed to my main hand and ignited both.

Beams of red and blue met my gaze. They sent me back to the Endar Spire, where I'd once held another pair of lightsabers in the same colors owned by vastly different wielders. As much as I wanted to avoid the Jedi, these lightsabers deserved to be returned to the Order so their owners' memories could be preserved, just like the nameless Jedi that had saved me aboard that doomed Republic ship. Varen would still be in the process of making his own lightsaber by the time I got back, so-

"What the kriff happened here?" The Private's voice coughed, and I instinctively attempted to dive behind cover, extinguishing the lightsabers on the way. I stayed there for a moment, before I was gently lifted out of my hiding spot by the collar of my coat and set down directly in front of the robe-clad man.

"Varen," I greeted, "Chances of meeting in a place like this, eh?"

"I came to get some crystals for my lightsaber. What are _you_ in the Crystal Cave for?"

"Well..." I glanced back over my shoulder at the dead Rally Master, "Apparently to get attacked by Mandalorian Jedi Hunters. I'd say that plan worked exceptionally."

"Those lightsabers were on him?" Varen asked, slipping past me to check the body.

"Yeah. He attacked me due to my _past_ association with the Jedi," I made sure that point got across, then tossed both lightsabers at him, "Be sure those get to the Council, alright?"

I turned and tried to leave, but didn't make more than two meters when I felt Varen's gaze on my back.

"Rain..." He said, almost pleading.

"I told you to not look back, Soldier," I whispered, then kept walking, passing Bastila at the mouth of the cave. I stopped a few meters beyond the woman, waiting long enough for her to get in whatever snippy remark she wanted to. When the Jedi remained silent, I just chuckled and moved along. If I didn't know better, I'd say Varen was having a calming effect on her.

* * *

**Ending Notes: Whew, I went through quite a few revisions on multiple scenes in this chapter. Even though I still feel it isn't quite up to par, I wanted to keep the Dantooine training section as short as possible, much like it was in the game. I would have thrown in another Taris chapter for effect, but that section was dragging on way too long already. In case if anyone was wondering, Rain's throat was permanently damaged by his exposure on post-bombardment Taris, and he now sounds somewhat similar to Solid Snake. If you don't know who that is, you should. Shame on you. **

**I also wanted to address how **_**stupid**_** a tactic the sword locks in games like Kotor are, hence why Rain was able to take down Sherruk so easily when it could have been another long and drawn out fight.**

**I'm leaving Bendak's fate unknown for canonicity reasons, but the fact that Rain has his blaster should give you an idea of my personal take on the matter. Those suppressed memories are suppressed for a **_**reason**_**.**

**Anyways, by my mental estimate the next two chapters will be all that I'll need to wrap up the in-game Dantooine storyline. Until then, everyone!**

**It seems my Yoda Speak isn't nearly as good as it should be. Did my best, and hopefully it served its purpose.**


	8. Technical Errors: Hiatus Announcement

Hello everyone, Rain here. So, due to some recent technical issues with my poor old Vista, I was forced to reformat my hard drive, and with it I lost both my KOTOR installation and all of the files for the previous chapters of Knights of the Old Storm. As a result, I will be putting this story on Hiatus until such a time as both issues can be resolved, and my interest in the game returns.

Until then, take it easy, this is Rain signing off.


End file.
